A Vchera Bylo Solntse
by Perceptive Pawn
Summary: His life had gotten where he didn't care if he died in 5 minutes. She had been taken from him, and it was such a surprise to have her back that it made him rethink his uncaring outlook. He wasn't going to lose her to him again. Not BB/L Yaoi
1. Dozhd' : Rain

It was an overcast day, the winds whipping violently all around the tall hotel building. The thick, heavy clouds that kept the sun prisoner behind their chilly walls threatened to unleash hell as the temperature dropped steadily. The breath that had been exhaled fogged up a small bit of the glass pane. The pigeons all huddled together on some of the lower balconies, cooing softly to each other between the harsh gusts of wind. The birds knew what was coming in the ominous clouds, yet the people on the ground still bustled about ignorantly.

_ 'What was it about people that let them continue on with their routines so blindly as to not notice imminent dangers? What let the human race push on so stupidly? How could the masses of people that flooded the streets below be so ignorant?'_

He sat nearest the window, his toes curling absently around the seam-lip of the computer chair that he sat upon as he stared balefully down at the bustling crowd from his thirtieth floor window. Musing silently that the people beneath him in the street resembles ants and seemed to act just as mindlessly, he brought his cup to his lips once more before digressing into his work mindset. One sound jab at the thick glass with his foot was all that it took to get him back across the room to where his desk was. A newspaper was spread haphazardly across one of the few empty spaces, a plate of donuts creasing one corner roughly and a bar of taffy staining one page with a spot of red oil. The small television set in the room, although muted, had a blandly pretty woman babbling on about the same headlines as the paper no doubt.

_ 'Kira, Kira, Kira, Kira…….'_

He pushed the paper, one irritated shove causing the entire stack of articles along with the plate and taffy and one or more pencils into the waste bin that had been strategically set next to the cherry-wood desk. This case was trying on his patience, effectively tugging a scowl onto his normally emotionless features. It was eerily similar to playing chess with himself, as each movement had a blatantly visible counterattack, leaving him to wallow in his indecisiveness. Every step he contemplated taking, each action that he tried to plan….. He could easily see two or three likely moves that Kira would make in response. His necessary moves were decidedly the ones that Kira wouldn't be expecting; hence he needed to look for not the soundest plans, but the blind spots that every chess player overlooked during the adrenaline-charged games in favor of those which were proven effective.

He was torn from his internal rant by the startlingly obnoxious buzzing and ringing of his alarm clock, forever doomed to be reset without true meaning. As an insomniac, he didn't have a real need for such an intrusive device; he preferred to keep one around so as to mark the start of his façade each day. Each time it went of in the mornings signified that he needed to leave the safety of his chosen bedroom and immerse himself in the workplace of his chosen task force instead. Having been brought into awareness that it was in fact six o'clock in the morning, he hopped down out of his black computer chair and made his way over to the annoying little machine, stretching in a cat-like manner as he did so. Once he had mashed the correct little silver button atop the noisy alarm with his pointer and middle fingers, the silence in his room returned to the ringing beauty it had been before the outburst. He let his black-rimmed eyes drop shut as he twisted violently to the right side, the string of cracking pops that followed giving the desired effect on his sore back. He opened his eyes, heading towards his closet as the next stop in his own self-created daily routine.

_ 'Raito has been bothering me lately to go and purchase new additions to my wardrobe, although I cannot see why. My clothes have always been enough to get me by in the investigation. There is absolutely nothing wrong with blue jeans and a plain white T shirt.' _

He shed his shirt, opting to take the moment to twist quickly to the left, meriting another set of cracks and pops, before slipping the clean white shirt on and tossing his other one into the laundry hamper. He quickly undid the button on his pants and let them fall to the floor, running a hand through his hair as he kicked them off and used his foot to throw them into the laundry basket alongside his shirt. He adjusted the elastic band of his black cotton boxers before grabbing a freshly folded pair off of the shelf before him and pulling them on one leg at a time.

When he exited the cream-colored closet and reentered the white room, he went and climbed onto his bed, on top of his steel colored plush throw that never got any use. His pillows, in their grey and black shammed glory, bounced lightly and were jostled as he got comfortable in his sitting style of choice. He began to chew on and pick at his thumb nail with abandon as his mind drifted to his task force, no doubt on their way through the busy streets below to make their way into his exclusive building.

_ 'Yagami, Mogi, Aizawa, Matsuda, Ukita, and Ide. Not to mention the other Yagami...'_

Raito had been aiding the investigation team for quite a long time now, and L could catch each double-meaning in his words, and saw each similarity between Raito and himself. It unnerved him how similarly they thought, and because of the way Kira seemed to see each of his movements with the clarity of someone who was anticipating such an action, it only made sense that Raito was indeed Kira. All of the facts thus far had underlying signs that indicated his role as such. Each turn of the investigation had vaguely pointed to him, and L doubted that there was another individual in all of Japan who was on the same level of intelligence that housed Raito and himself. Despite the fact that Raito had thoroughly convinced the rest of the team of his innocence, L decided that it didn't matter what they thought so long as he himself could see the true Raito.

_ 'Yes, I can see through his warm and congenial front to the cold, calculating murderer beneath. His god-complex is simply flagrant in its existence.'_

He was torn from his reverie by a sharp rap on his plain white door. He maneuvered to the edge of the bed and allowed himself a moment of lowered reasoning skill by sliding down onto the edge into a normal state of sitting. Scratching the top of his foot with the other in the pair, he nodded towards the door, regardless of the fact that Watari could not see through it. He rolled his head, stretching his neck and popping it, before he spoke.

"Yes, come in Watari."

He heard the door jam working and heard the creak of the door sliding into its tract and back into the designated place in the wall as his elderly friend entered, his gray-covered head bowed slightly in courtesy whilst he shuffled quickly into the room. In his hands was a small tray, made of ornately wrought iron that held a striking resemblance to the dinner set from the Whammy House, filled with a cup if tea, sugar pot, plate of crepes with strawberries, a small bowl of Lindt and Sprüngli Truffles and a smaller plate of marshmallows of different flavors and colors. He allowed a small smile to creep onto his face as his friend slid the door closed and set the tray on his desk where the newspaper had been.

"Good Morning Ryuuzaki, I took the liberty of bringing you breakfast. Today is your scheduled restocking day. Would you like me to go down to the sweets shop or should I send young Matsuda?"

He stood, walking over to the old man and laying a hand on his shoulder in appraisal before resuming his normal seat in his computer chair with his normal style before picking at the tray before him with muted interest. Watari waited calmly and patiently for an answer, having already become accustomed to L's particular quirks and habits. His gently wrinkled face had its trademark smile on it, the one that he always had when in L's presence. His suit was gray pinstripe today and his white gloved hands were folded neatly in front of him, at the same height as the pocket in which his watch chain was kept, the thin gold chain drooping out and leading up to the pocket where the watch itself was.

"I think that I will accompany you to the shop."

Watari paused, struck with just a faint surprise, before nodding promptly and making his way back out of the door. Before he slid it shut yet again, he spoke softly, his mustache moving with his lips.

"When should we leave? Perhaps in a half hour?"

He nodded silently, a small spoonful of crepe at his lips. Eating quickly, he watched Watari close the door again, and let his gaze become unfocused on the white wall before him. He decided that today was going to be a good day, weather permitting or not. So, as he ate and listened to the commotion a single floor down, he let his gaze drift down to where the secret drawer was in his desk. It was a tiny thing, but it served its purpose well and that was all that mattered, like with his wardrobe. His hand, more on its own accord than by voluntary command, drifted to it and opened it easily. His fingers were gentle, cautious as he pulled the worn and delicate picture out of its hiding place. Pulling the little picture up to eye level, he used his other hand to give himself another bite of sugary crepe.

God, how he missed her.

* * *

So, hello again faithful readers and newly found visitors. Tell me if this is starting out as total shit!

First I must apologize for the lack of updates to all of my other stories. Please review this new story!

Second, I must translate the titles for all of you.

(Cyrillic Russian) А Вчера Было Солнце : (Romanization) A Vchera Bylo Solntse : It Was Sunny Yesterday

(Cyrillic Russian) Дождь : (Romanization) Dozhd' : The Rain


	2. Pod Odnim Nebom : Beneath The Same Sky

It was as cold outside as it looked, and the wind only made it seem colder. The clouds rolled in continuously with the wind, looking more and more like a shade scale as they gradually darkened and thickened with the ticking of the clock on the wall. He stood on the balcony that was horizontal to the 'common room' that the investigation team liked to set up their network hub of laptops in. Watari had gotten him a long tan trench coat to try and fend off some of the harsh wind and he wore it now, to no avail. He still distinctly felt the wintery air surrounding and caressing every part of his body as he stood there, the goose-bumps from said cold rising on his arms. He stood hunched over, his shoulders squared against the gale as he continued to stare down at the flowing crowds in the streets.

_Even now they keep going, even after the air pressure has changed so. What is wrong with humanity? _

He stopped, mentally lurching forward with the velocity that he had managed to accumulate. Did he really think so poorly of humanity for not being meticulous? The people beneath him were content, if not happy, to just overlook the despair and depression that permeated the air around them. How could he criticize them for carrying on? How could he stand there and just label these people as ignorant when he was clearly the mental minority? He tasted bile on the back of his tongue as he analyzed his own thought process. He was probably the only person in the entire city who even wasted time to observe something as infinitesimal as the weather. Nowadays, people could simply dash into a building, or under and overpass, or into a car, or under an umbrella in order to simply forget the weather. They all had better things to think about, such as families or friends, pets and term papers, stock markets and work, or significant others.

He allowed himself a shiver with the thought of significant others.

It wasn't as if he didn't have work to think about; more than one section of his brain was always attuned to and mulling over the Kira case. He was doomed to be constantly processing each and every hypothetical chess move and its counteractions; cause and effect, attack and repercussion. No, he wasn't just wasting his own time in noticing the weather. He just happened to have space in his vast brain to contemplate multiple things at once; both a gift and a curse.

He could hear Matsuda through the thick glass of the sliding door, rambling on and on about the latest media scandal. That boy managed to trump the wind itself with his incessant babble. He didn't have a problem with Matsuda, no; he even had a slight fondness for the boy, in theory and at a distance. He was careful to avoid being alone in the same room with him though, as his patience spread thin when dealing directly with the hyperactive and eager task force member. He was a good addition to the team regardless, as his antics kept the room in a lowered state of tension more often then not.

Sighing, he turned to go back inside, slipping his unobtrusive, plain black flip-flops off and holding them both in his left hand as he opened the door. He shut the door as he stepped in, shaking his head slightly to get his black hair to lie in its regular disarray in lieu of its windblown state. Watari was waiting by the exit door across the room, his smile etched onto his face again as he patiently watched L move slowly across the room. Matsuda and Ide were talking in one corner, quietly now that he had reentered, as Ide tapped relentlessly on his keyboard. Soichiro and Raito were murmuring softly to each other as the need arose whilst hard-at-work on their own laptops. The whole team was in the room, working diligently on the case.

He bit back another sigh as he reached Watari. He hadn't noticed it before, but the old man was holding the matching hat to his coat, and with a quick flick of his slightly age-spotted wrist, had tossed it into his own hands. He let the corners of his mouth tilt up before he adjusted the hat onto his head, effectively hiding most of his hair and casting a nice shadow over his eyes. Trust Watari to be prepared to disguise him as best as possible in public. Watari opened the door, standing to the side as to let him saunter out into the hallway, before following him out and bolting the door again.

"Shall we go, Ryuuzaki? I have the Mercedes Bison waiting with the doorman."

Nodding, he followed in Watari's steps as the old man led the way to the elevator. The wine colored walls were empty and bland against the gold carpet coupled with the tan crown molding and baseboards. He had managed to procrastinate for an hour and a half longer than Watari had previously suggested, and the windows at the ends of the hallway let in the early morning light; the pale white overcast-glow illuminated the potted maple and bamboo plants that stood like sentinels guarding the elevator doors. The sun had risen by now, and the light it cast made the all of the stratus clouds lighter by one or two shades but did virtually nothing to dispel them.

As Watari pressed the button to signal the elevator, he chanced another glance at the crowds beneath them. The roads had only grown more active as the business men and women began to reach their destinations alongside the later-commuters who were just venturing into the city. Busses began to be more frequent among the cars, and the subway stairs were constantly being trampled as people picked up speed in an attempt not to be late to work. He let his eyes wander over the hundreds of tops of people's heads, absently monitoring the ebb and flow of the street.

He was only vaguely aware of the elevator's pinging to signal its own arrival, or how the carpet slid under his feet as he padded barefoot into the elevator itself when the doors opened. His attention was trained in solely on the window as remnants of his previous thoughts floated back into his mind; no one else on this island is being so observant so as to be stuck on the idea of the weather changing. The people in the street were just focused on getting to where they needed to be. His eyes caught and remained on one tiny speck of tan in the crowd; someone wearing a tan hat.

His eyes widened as the tan speck froze in its place, pausing before the speck itself was almost eclipsed by a new, pale white color. The people continued to flow around the one immobile person, weaving in and around themselves and cars and streetlights to get on their own paths. His breath hitched slightly as he realized the person in the street was staring up at the sky, so concentrated on it that they had to stop walking to do so properly. Then, as if on cue by his thoughts, two silver flashes came right in his direction from the pale part of the speck at the colors rotated together.

**Someone in that crowd was staring back up at him as he stared at them.**

The doors to the elevator closed robotically, cutting off his view out of the window.

* * *

Nestled somewhere deep in the English Countryside was a medium-sized whitewashed building, with a picket fence surrounding it and an acre of grassy hills and part of a small forest. Inside this moonlit building, in the back section of the large kitchen to be exact, was a circular oak table with six oak chairs stationed around it and several mugs of coffee, tea and hot chocolate, respectively. At this table, bathed in artificial light from a bare light bulb above the table, were an elderly man and three boys. Newspaper in hand, the old man lifted his mug of coffee and took a hearty swig before setting it back on it's coaster and flipping the page. The old man pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose while trying to drown out the chatter produced from the three other occupants of the table.

From the red-haired boy came electronic noises and the occasional hushed cuss word. His hands, sheathed by black gloves, were all but soldered to the portable game console before him. His raving/riding goggles rested on his shaggy maroon locks as his emerald eyes darted back and forth restlessly across the screen in his hands. His black combat boots rested in the chair to his right as he slouched in his own chair carelessly, his black skinny jeans wrinkled in the thigh area and in the waist where it met his red and gold striped shirt as he slowly slid a few inches further down against the sleekly polished wood. His cup of tea was abandoned before him on the table, having only been sipped two or three times and then set down half on the coaster and half off at a hazardous angle without another thought in favor of the video game.

From the blonde boy at the left hand of the red-head came much louder cuss words thrown into strings of insults and angry remarks. From his seat directly across from the old man, he was constantly hovering somewhere between sitting in his seat and standing on it in his excited state of emotion. His shoulder-length, straight blonde hair was being tossed about as he energetically antagonized his battleship opponent. His rosary bounced against his built chest as he jumped up again, cheering his own small, partial-victory, only to be silenced and motioned into his seat momentarily again by a glare from the old man. His dark maroon leather pants emitted slight noises when he moved too quickly against the wood, the same way his black leather gloves squeaked when his strong hands fisted. Indignant snarls and the occasional threat of painful death leaked from him as he chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully, attempting to thwart his opponent.

From the boy to the left of the loud blonde came little to no noise. It was as if his ears, hidden beneath his shock of white curls, were immune to the blonde's remarks. He remained still, his knees pulled up to his chest and his toes alternation between being curled up under themselves and dangling over the edge of the chair. One pale hand rested on his striped-blue pajama-pant sheathed knee and the other drifted up to absently curl a lock of white hair between its pointer finger and thumb. At his side in the chair, wedged between his hip and the back of the chair, was a brightly colored toy robot, and the only noise that it made was the occasional tap as its limbs connected with wood. Emotionless eyes on an expressionless face drifted over the game before him, calculating and analyzing the pieces.

"Near!! Near you whore, pay attention! I'm beating you by one point! Ha-ha! Near, do you hear me? I'm beating you! Roger, make Near stop ignoring me!"

From his position, Roger set down his newspaper and let the scowl that was present of his features be seen. He sat up, leaning forwards slightly in his chair so as to glower at the blonde. Why did he even let his friend Watari coax him into taking this job? He hated children! All of them! Sniveling, snot-nosed, whiney, annoying brats!

"Mello, he's not answering because he, like the rest of the house and I, want you to shut up and stay sitting down. The only reason you are even sitting here instead of being in bed like the rest of the children is because you three are the eldest in the house. For some reason, Watari seems to think that that has some precedence over your treatment. Near I can handle, seeing as he isn't as obnoxious and is better mannered than you, but you and Matt only serve to give me a migraine!"

He stood, folding the newspaper up into a neat little square, and stalked across the kitchen to set his empty mug in the sink, grumbling to himself the whole time. Matt, swearing angrily, turned to his blonde friend beside him for a moment before letting his eyes lock back onto the game.

"Y'know, he has a point Mello. You have to- _Damn Zombies!_ - chill out. It's just a game, dude."

This earned him a particularly venomous hiss from the defensive blonde. Mello paused, turning around in his seat to face his friend, gritting his teeth dangerously in sync with the intensification of his glare.

"Matt, stay out of it! You know well enough that Roger is just tied in a knot because of his hemorrhoids. I'm beating Near; this means I get to celebrate. So help me, if you get in my way, I'll burn all of your memory cards."

Matt chose to ignore the threat, allowing a moment of his concentration in order to wave one hand dismissively at his friend's anger before returning to his battle against the undead swarms that had begun to overthrow the world's most intricate governmental facilities.

"Mello, you really are just being rash and overemotional. How can you expect to triumph over anything if you are only worried about beating me? Aren't you here to learn how to beat criminals?"

Near's small, soft voice only served to fan the flames of Mello's fury. His blue eyes sparked angrily and he actually began to growl at the white-haired boy in front of him. His hands fisted, one of them succeeding in crushing a small plastic boat in the process, and slammed down on the wooden table as he seethed. Matt forgot his game for a moment, watching as Mello stood up quickly, shoving his chair backwards with one knee. Roger had returned from the other side of the kitchen when the sound of Mello's hands hitting the table caught his attention.

"How dare you, you insignificant twerp! Don't you fucking dare to even think that you are better than me! I'll… I'll… Goddamn it, I'm going to tear your jaw off!"

Before Mello could lunge at Near, and before Roger could even raise a hand to stop Mello, Matt had pocketed his game and grabbed both of Mello's elbows. Pulling them behind his back, Matt shook his head and sighed before dragging his spitfire friend out of the kitchen and across the building to their room. Roger, uncomfortable being left alone with Near, whom he was secretly a little frightened of, cleared his throat and quickly moved to put the chairs back in order and take the dishes to the sink.

"I don't blame you for his outbursts, Near. He's just an insufferably sore loser. "

He bit his tongue, restraining himself from continuing his own train of thought on the blonde boy. Oh, how he hated having to work with him. Him and his lackey, the video-game-kid. Hmph.

"Not to worry you or anything, just to give you a heads up and something to think about, I wanted to let you know that what I was reading in that newspaper is something that I think you should know. Go ahead and take it back to you room with you and give it a good read. I don't really want Mello to find out about it, so try not to let him see it."

Roger sighed, adjusting his tweed vest before turning to leave the kitchen and get some rest himself. Near, slowly and quietly standing up and sliding his chair in, tucked his robot under one arm. He shook his shoulders a bit to let his blue pajama-shirt straighten out before he turned and padded barefoot over to the counter above which the light switch was located. He eyed the newspaper that had been thrown onto the marble countertop, and sighed inwardly at his own curiosity before picking it up and tucking it under his free arm. He switched the light off and silently made his way out of the kitchen and down the hallway. Once he was directly in front of his bedroom door, he turned slightly to the left, bathing his front-side in white moonlight.

He gave up, letting his curiosity flood his mind as he unfolded the thin paper. He got it unfolded properly and held it up in the light, letting the illuminated words become imprinted in his mind.

**Mass Murderer Escaped: **

**B****eyond ****B****irthday Has Escaped From Alcatraz And Remains ****B****eyond Police Grasp**


	3. Kto Ty? : Who Are You?

The dark skies glared down at him as he stepped out of the hotel lobby onto the thin sidewalk between the hotel doors and the open and waiting black Bison door. Watari waited patiently from inside the vehicle, his hands on the steering wheel in a relaxed position. The wind buffeted him as he stared at the face of his old friend, darkened by the tint from the windows, and struggled viciously against the urge to turn and scan the crown for the person in tan. Jaw clenched, he felt his body shiver violently from something most different than the temperature as he stepped smoothly into the car. The black leather upholstery greeted him warmly, having already had a chance to absorb the heat flowing out of the air conditioner vents, as he chanced one quick sideways glance into the crowd before shutting the door unceremoniously.

'_What was up with that feeling I got just then? I've been watched before; Raito and the investigation team do it all of the time while we work. Why did I get such an overwhelming feeling of being stared at when that stranger in the crowd looked up?'_

He paused, a large portion of his brain getting sidetracked with the distraction that this stranger presented. He shuffled his feet beneath himself, angrily flicking the boring flip-flops off of his feet before getting comfortable and warming his toes on the leather. This was new, and entirely unexpected, this stranger was. His hand lifted up off of its place on his knee to let his thumb nail snag lightly between his teeth; he didn't even think about doing this anymore, it had become an involuntary habit.

'………_I wasn't the only one…….There was another who was watching the skies……'_

A tiny portion of his brain, one part that wasn't occupied with the Kira case or this Person 'X', noticed that Watari had started to delicately ease the car into the street with minute interest. The rest of his brain was still moving, perpetually in motion. This person, how was it to be said that person 'X' wasn't Kira? Or some other criminal? Or worse? He was, after all, known to the world as the top detective, not to mention the aliases he had that respectively signified the second and third best detectives. It wasn't impossible, or even remotely implausible, that more than one person in the world wanted his throat. He had made sure to mask himself upon arriving in Japan, and he had carefully made sure to keep his whereabouts unknown. Was it possible that someone knew where he was and was moving in for the kill after having set their sights on him through the window?

'_If that is the case, then I have to dedicate a larger portion of my brain to physical awareness.'_

There was most literally no chance that he would allow his own slacking to get Watari hurt, or to let the Kira case's top secret information be jeopardized. He was the top three detectives in the world by himself! No petty criminal with some half-baked avenger-complex was going to scathe him. He quickly shifted his weight to his heels as Watari had to exercise the brakes in order to let an elderly couple pass across the street, quickly evading a fall as the momentum caught up with the car.

'_Should I let Watari know? No, it would only stress him out, and I am not even sure if there is a threat to be worried about to begin with.'_

It was entirely possible that the person who caught him staring was just a fluke and not anything to worry about at all. The person, whoever they were, was probably carrying on in the crowds to reach their destinations; they probably hadn't had a second thought about the odd person that they saw through a very high window. It was probably just a coincidence, and nothing of importance to the investigation or to his or Watari's personal wellbeing. However, it was in his nature to factor in every possible outcome, to scrutinize every plausible possibility. As sure as he was that 'two plus two is four' ('Deux et deux font quatre; Zwei hinzugefügt, um zwei ist vier; Due più due fa Quattro; Dalawang kasama ang dalawang katumbas ng apat; Iki artı iki eşittir dört…..' his brain started listing the translations of the phrase softly in one small section of itself as he continued his train of thought) then he was sure that anything could happen and take him by surprise. He wasn't above the laws of reality, and he had been taken by surprise before; the 'Shinigami love apples' occurrence was certainly a main example of such an event.

He was taken from his thoughts as the quiet purr of the car's engine quickly but gently came to a stop; they were parked directly in front of a small building that had a flag reading 'Okashi Hanbai Shiteimasu!' waving just over the door. He smiled slightly, lazily sliding the annoying flip-flops back onto his feet as Watari made his way over to his door, opening it for him courteously. He ducked his head, skillfully jumping out of the car into an upright, albeit slouched, position directly from his previous crouched one. Watari shut the door, tucking an unopened umbrella neatly underneath his arm before following him to the entrance of the shop. The other small car, filled with six policemen, parked behind the Bison; the men filed out, two slipping into the shop before their prized detective and the other four spacing out evenly around Watari and himself. He noted lightly that Aizawa was one of the dark-clad men, his gun being outlined perfectly by the clingy material of his black coat. They didn't stop the flow of people around the shop, as that would have been attention-grabbing, but simply monitored the situation silently.

'_Well, don't I feel like a small child. Why is it so important to watch over me as if I was a toddler?'_

His brain quickly scrolled back through the train of thought involving people wanting him dead, as if to answer his question in an exasperated timbre, despite the status of said question as rhetorical. He blinked slowly, his eyes drifting to the ominously colored sky before he began his small adventure into the Sweets Shop. He entered swiftly, the small glass door swinging fluidly open, the small trio of bells that hung over the door chiming sweetly as it did so. The man behind the counter that was parallel to the entrance looked up at the sound and waved happily, a leisurely shout of 'Irashaimasu!' blending into the sociable atmosphere of the pleasant shop. He was a middle-aged brunette, his build slightly stockier than average, with a certain map of light wrinkles on his face that indicated many years of smiling. His name tag simply read 'Manager', yet Watari seemed to know his name well enough to approach him and comment on the weather.

There were a few tables and chairs scattered in the corners of the open raspberry-colored room, the type of white metal setups that were typically found in English gardens, and the majority of these were occupied with friendly people. There was a short line of about three people crowding his view of the pastry layout, but he was in no hurry, so he settled for standing off to the side of the counter and waiting. He popped his neck, aimlessly noting about how the white tiles on the floor were turned a light maple color in the warm lighting. He watched as his personal guards, or babysitters from his perspective, scattered themselves around the room, joining pattern with their two comrades who had already become acquainted with the little store. He took to observing the people, whom were enjoying the fruits of the business unknowingly.

There was a teenage couple in the corner nearest the door whom were holding hands over the table as they shared a thick slice of strawberry shortcake and a large mug of hot chocolate; an old woman with a young child polishing off a big plate of mitarashi dango in the corner across the shop from the couple; a pair of well-dressed Englishmen walking out of the shop with their steaming cups of latté-espressos; a woman in her mid-twenties, next to the grandma and grandson, eating a small bowl of oshiruko after finishing what looked like breakfast purchased from another restaurant; a group of three men exited the line and took up space at the table next to the affectionate teenagers, leaving the path to the counter open to him.

He moved to step up to the counter, just barely registering the petite tan blur that dashed through the door and was rushing towards him. He turned just in time to see Aizawa and two other men jump forwards, guns in hand, scaring the little thing onto its knees in response to the weapons. His eyes widened, taking in the tan-trench-coat-clad elfin creature that had slid on the tile to land not five feet in front of him and realized that it was a woman. The guards were shouting, dangerously jabbing their guns towards her. Her pale little hands were thrown up over her ducked head, the tan fedora of hers toppling off to land beside her knee and revealing vibrantly colored hair that was pulled back into a bun as she whipped her head back and forth out of stress. A shockingly musical soprano voice rang out from her.

"Ne strelyaĭ menya! Ne strelyaĭte! Polozhite vashe oruzhie vniz! Ya soyuznik!"

He started forwards, blinking owlishly as he registered the words as Russian.

'_Don't shoot? She is an ally?'_

Her large, glassy orbs wheeled from beneath thick blonde fringe bangs to take in his form, her hands swinging forwards to slam onto the ground in front of her as she slid herself a few inches forwards towards him; this startled the already riled-up policemen and they all reacted by advancing, angrily brandishing their guns. She flinched visibly at the onslaught of artillery and quickly sputtered out more Russian, this time directing her lyrical, though terrified and hurried words at him.

"Hotite snimat' menya tak bystro, drug moĭ? Ty zabyl menya?"

'_Forgotten her? __**Friend?**__ Just who is she? For the record, I don't have a gun pointed at her….'_

"I do not know you. What evidence have you given to contradict their reasons for poising to shoot?"

Her head snapped up, a look of horror on her delicate features as she let his words sink in. Her hands balled into small fists on the ground, her eyes sharply narrowing in response to her sudden shock of rejection. Aizawa was edging closer, his guns tip only a few feet from her temple as he and his comrades continued to spit angry things at her. He didn't stop to pay attention to their cries as his attention was trained on the astounding little person at his feet. He did notice, in his peripheral vision, the fact that everyone in the shop had stopped and was staring at the commotion they were making with horror and fear. Of course; the policemen were waving guns in the air. How could they not be frightened?

"Kak ty mog zabyt' menya?! Posmotri mne v glaza i skazhi, chto ty zabyl menya!!"

He blinked, surprised by the venom and outrage in her melodic voice. As her shouting escalated in the last phrase, her eyes gradually widened until they were opened to the fullest, her resplendent gray iris' flashing silver dangerously up towards his black ones. He froze, stumbling back two steps before falling onto the floor himself, landing unceremoniously on his behind as she skittered another foot towards him; her balled fists rose and slammed down onto the tile in her fury. He saw the policemen's eyes widen and heard their gasps as the tile cracked roughly under them.

Watari had taken a step forwards, no doubt meaning to help him up, before he thought better of it and stayed where he was. He understood her words, even though the policemen didn't. Recognition flashed over his features as he stared into her anger-tinted glare. This was the single other. This was Person X from the crowd. He felt the goose-bumps raise as a deeper identification set in; she was here as if she had just stepped out of his picture, alive and fighting. She was back; she had found him.

"How are you here? What-"

Aizawa was directly next to her now, his gun actually touching her hair as he seethed, angry for her disobeying their orders. He saw the man's finger twitch towards the trigger. He was about to fire! He was going to shoot her on the spot, without even understanding her words!

He didn't think as he threw himself forwards, his arms engulfing her as he heaved himself between the gun and her skull. He heard himself shouting, heard the order not to harm her escaping his lips as she fell backwards beneath him. He watched his hand swing up to cushion the back of her head, keeping her head from hitting the hard tile as his other arm slid to curl protectively around her thin waist. He saw the tears form in her eyes as she registered the look in his eyes, felt her thin fingers clench on the front of his trench coat as her rage was placated. Relief washed over her expression as she felt his fingers slip into her silky hair as he brought her closer to him, her cheek pressing into his chest as he let a heated glare slip over his shoulder towards the men who had almost taken her away from him again.

Time sped back up for him as the roar of noise in the room flooded his senses again; his brain snapped back into rational thinking patterns at once. He froze, his body hanging rigidly over hers as his vision bored into the tile past her head. He registered her movement, although he remained unmoving, and watched her peer up at Watari through his peripheral vision. Watari stared incredulously back down at her from his place by the counter. A sheepish smile crept onto her lips as she unclenched one hand from his coat momentarily to wave at him shyly.

He felt Aizawa's strong hands grab onto the back of his coat and gently set her down on the ground and untangled himself from her before he was retched backwards onto his feet. Aizawa tried to pull him further, attempted to force him back ten feet or so, but he locked his legs and made the efforts of the policeman look feeble as he held a hand out to the woman who was splayed out on the floor. Her gray eyes flickered between his face and his hand before she grasped it and let him help her up. Her black Gucci heels clicked lightly as she stood before them. Her shy smile still graced her lips as she bowed deeply. She seemed in control of herself when she spoke again, her voice soft and chiming as her words came out in English, not Russian. Her accent, which had been thickly Russian, became a Japanese accent in her words.

"I am sorry for my hasty behavior. I needed to talk to you, my old friend. It is important. We need to have a private place to talk."

He smiled, nodding to her as he shook himself free of Aizawa's hold. Watari, having quietly come to a conclusion about her identity himself, strolled over calmly and retrieved her Fedora from the ground and brought it over to her amiably. She pulled her hand away from his, opting to take her hat bashfully from Watari. She said a hushed 'thank you' before turning back to him. He nodded silently before turning to the policemen behind him and dismissing them bluntly. They all exchanged looks of distaste before filing out of the shop and packing back into their car.

He stepped forwards, putting a hand on her shoulder and turning her gently towards the exit. He ignored her bewildered gaze and continued to lead her outside, holding the door for her with one arm over her head to do so. Watari walked out briskly to get in the car and start it up. She paused for a moment to reset her hat on her head, reminding him that they probably looked odd because of their matching attire, and then continued to allow herself to be led into the car. He smiled inwardly as she stopped again, half in the car and half still on the sidewalk, in order to glance up at the malign sky warily. He did the same, before carefully pressing a hand to her hip and sliding her further in and sitting down himself in his peculiar manner.

He shut the door quickly, nodding to Watari as a signal to go back to the hotel. His thumb nail hooked between his teeth as he glanced sideways at the girl next to him, who seemed to be at a war with herself; her features were marred with nervousness, but it seemed that she couldn't help being relieved. Her pearl white teeth had sunk down onto her lower lip with admirable pressure as she chanced another quick look at him from the corner of her eye. He knew that she had seen him looking at her when she stiffened and when she bit down on her lip harder. He chuckled in his head before he turned his upper body to face her. She did the same, her eyes looking more charcoal in the dim light of the car than really gray, although there was still a shimmering edge of silver in them as she gazed at him warily.

He clenched his jaw, his nails digging into his knees, no doubt leaving angry crescent-moon marks on his skin through the jean and trench coat material. He worked the words with his tongue, chewing them and weighing the options before he allowed himself to talk. She waited patiently; watching him with apprehension as she anxiously anticipated his words. He sighed, having fought with his own voice for long enough.

"Rhywy, thank god that you're still alive."

* * *

Hello Again, all of you. Please do me a great favor by reviewing.

It makes me feel wanted if you do leave me a little review.

It doesn't even have to be a proper critique, simply a line or two saying that you liked it or disliked it.

...

Russian : English

Ne strelyaĭ menya! : Don't shoot me!

Ne strelyaĭte! : Don't shoot!

Polozhite vashe oruzhie vniz! : Put your weapons down!

Ya soyuznik! : I am an ally!

Hotite snimat' menya tak bystro, drug moĭ? : Want to shoot me so fast, my friend?

Ty zabyl menya? : Have you forgotten me?

Kak ty mog zabyt' menya?! : How could you forget me?

Posmotri mne v glaza i skazhi, chto ty zabyl menya!! : Look me in the eye and say that you forgot me!

...

Other : English

(French) Deux et deux font quatre : Two plus Two equals Four

(German) Zwei hinzugefügt, um zwei ist vier : Two plus Two equals Four

(Italian) Due più due fa Quattro : Two plus Two equals Four

(Filipino) Dalawang kasama ang dalawang katumbas ng apat : Two plus Two equals Four

(Turkish) Iki artı iki eşittir dört : Two plus Two equals Four


	4. Vymyshlennoe Imya : False Name

She couldn't help the smile that crept onto her lips when she heard him use her old nickname. It made her reminisce; made her come close to slipping into a flashback. She reined in her independent mind and paid closer attention to the man before her. A part of her mind, the specifically rebellious part, murmured things about wanting to reach out and touch him, every part of him to reacquaint herself with him. She stifled her slightly schizophrenic mental-counterpart and concentrated on his face.

He hadn't changed very much since their last encounter. Despite the absence of the air of hostility that he had had with her then, she saw that his features were primarily the same. The most that had changed with him was that the blackened bags beneath his eyes had gotten darker and his hair had gotten a little longer; not by much though, perhaps by a few millimeters or so. She found herself drawn to his eyes though, past the insomnia scars and into the depths where he was trained onto her form. There was a relief in them, and apprehension vacillating with something else in his inky black eyes.

Part of her brain fancied thinking that he yearned to touch her as well. To indirectly give her some sign that she hadn't been imagining the emotion in his stares so many years ago.

But she shook her head free of those speculations as she got around to actually forming some coherent reply to his fervent exclamation. She nodded, her nostalgic smile fading slightly as she twisted her fingers nervously in her lap. She adverted her eyes from his, letting them fall onto her own lap as she inhaled deeply to reply.

"It was difficult, yes. I am more resilient than you give me credit for being. It took everything I could think of to escape him, after he changed....."

She noticed the flash of guilt that colored his eyes as he listened quietly. His fingers dug into his knees as a shaky breath racked her slight frame. Her eyes flashed up to look at them, her teeth sinking down onto her lower lip as she did so. He was hurting himself, over her. She couldn't quite work out why he would, considering that he had sent her away before. Nonetheless, she couldn't just sit there and let him.

Her fingers flew quickly, skillfully prying his hands off of his knees and holding them in the air above them with her own. A look of surprise snapped onto his face, his wondering gaze beaming down onto her eyes as she met his eyes. A light blush dusted her cheeks, but she refused to rescind her actions and stood her ground. She wasn't about to be ordered around like an unwanted stray.

"Stop hurting yourself. I do not like it."

She continued to stare up at him, her large eyes open to any and every response that he could possibly throw at her. She didn't square her shoulders and she didn't lower any horns. She expected him to react like he would have in the past; there was no way to accept that he would change his manners. She vehemently spurned the possibility that he would deviate so far over time. It wasn't like him. So she waited for a rebuttal.

When none came, she slowly released his surprisingly warm hands and let her own fall onto the seat between them. Her eyes swam slightly as they pricked at the corners; she needed to tell him. It was important and rather pressing.

'_He's going to throw us out. Scorn us and loathe us. Why would he want such an abomination around? What could he possibly want with a fuck up like us? Like __**you**__!?'_

Her personal schizophrenic-mental-roommate spit at her venomously. She had gotten used to calling her Ikiryo and pictured her as a Hannya mask each time she spoke to her. It was a frequent occurrence, ever since she had been contained, and she had gotten used to the cruel Hannya. She hardly ever replied to the schizophrenic apparition, since it only ever lead to more insults, but she felt the need to reassure herself that telling him was for the better.

'_There isn't anything else for us to do. We have to try, and hope that he understands.'_

'_Understands what? That you're a pathetic and weak little slut? How can you even envision him accepting you, especially when you're getting so fat! You weren't pretty to begin with, dear, and this weight that you're gaining isn't making us any more attractive.'_

'……_I know.'_

'_Well then, why would you even risk giving him more of a reason to get rid of you again? You stupid bitch! Are you so desperate for attention that you would exploit us like that?!'_

She abandoned her argument with Ikiryo, letting the angry and nagging voice fade into the farthest recesses of her mind as she realized that he was opening the door and letting the cold air sweep into the previously warm car. Were they back at his residence already? She had wasted all of her time with him! She hadn't gotten around to saying anything of importance!

'_Good going, dumbass. He isn't going to listen to you. And why should he listen to your stupid idiocies?'_

'_Oh, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!! What am I going to do? What should I do? I can't tell him in front of other people. Not with the unpredictability of his reaction, let alone my own emotions. I just can't…….'_

He was outside already, ducking back into the car and extending a hand to her. She blinked dumbly for a moment, coming back to reality with a sour depression plaguing her psyche thanks to Ikiryo, before hurriedly taking his hand and letting him help her out of the car. Watari stepped up behind them and shut the door for them, and she would have turned to thank him if she hadn't been quickly pulled into the reception hall of the very upscale hotel.

He was walking briskly, something that he never seemed to do, although he retained his slumped posture and blank stare as he did so. He jabbed the button on the elevator rather harshly, glancing around and past her to survey the lobby with barely contained paranoia. She was taken aback, her fingers flexing in his grip as she felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise in response to his anxiety.

Were they in danger? Why was he in such a hurry to get her upstairs?

'….._Oh god….'_

She stifled a shiver as dark possibilities flooded her mind, a habit that she had unwillingly gained from experience. She tried to reason with herself, attempted to find logic amongst the irrational panic that gripped her. This was L; he wasn't going to hurt her. He would never hurt her……

She swallowed convulsively as her eyes snapped open; he had stepped into the open elevator with Watari, gently but quickly tugging her into the small space with him. Stepping nimbly into the only accessible piece of carpet, she was taken from her mental hysteria by the pinging noise of the doors closing behind her. She gasped audibly as she felt her stomach bottom out with the jerk of the elevator. She felt her eyes widen and her muscles clench as more irrational fear seized her body, via overactive imagination. The cables were going to snap, and they were all going to plummet to the concrete below them and die painfully and horrifically…..

She felt his fingers ghost up her arm and then down her back. She just barely registered that he was pulling her towards him and into his waiting embrace as her breathing hitched. Her eyes flicked up to his, which were still staring deliberately forwards as he held her to his chest. She relaxed a little in his warm clutch, her fear of falling melting away with his heartbeat. That was about the time that her mental cogs began to rotate again and her previous surprise made her feel silly. Of course he would remember her aversion to elevators; they had been the closest of friends at the Whammy house. Why would he have forgotten such a hindrance of hers?

Of course he would have been nervous in the lobby; if she had been able to find him and follow him around, what was stopping a dangerous criminal from doing the same? It was natural to see the reasons behind his haste, and it wasn't difficult at all to figure out the motifs. She was being slow again, and letting her emotions rule her mind and body. She was faulty…..

'_Of course you are you little disgrace. Did you ever have the gall to think of yourself differently? Is this really such a great epiphany? I would have thought that your broken and irreparable status would have been obvious.'_

She didn't have the strength to combat Ikiryo at the moment as the doors made the exact reverse noise of the one that they had made closing to signal their opening. She was pulled along again, although this time his arm was around her waist instead of his grasping her hand, down a long hallway. She marveled at how the carpet muffled any sound of her footsteps with one small part of her stressed mind. They stopped before an ornate door, the one at the opposite end of the hallway, just long enough for Watari to swipe a card and punch a few digits into a pad mounted on the wall. She took this time to suck in a deep breath through her teeth; they had really been hustling and she was going to be prepared for whatever speedy actions awaited her behind the door.

His grip on her tightened as he ushered her through the door, almost before it had swung open; Watari had gone in ahead and was ready to close the door swiftly behind them. Once inside, he stopped and stayed where he stood and held her close with one arm. She didn't mind at all and felt the need to step closer as she surveyed the room. Her fingers found his coat and curled tightly into the material as she heard a small squeak of surprise escape her clenched teeth. She pressed her cheek into his chest while she fought with the urge to hide her flushed face entirely in his trench coat.

Six men stared incredulously back at her, all of them frozen mid-action to leer at her.

One of them, a younger one that was closer to the door than the others, stood up from his seat on a couch to stretch; he was the first to move and so far the only one.

"Jeez Ryuuzaki, I thought you went out to pick up candy. How did you manage to come home with a girl?"

His posture was relaxed and nonchalant compared to the others in the room as he walked around the furniture to stand before them, his hands resting lightly on his hips. She noticed absently that he was as tall as L and that his eyes reminded her of milk chocolate. He looked her up and down, an action that happened to be a fine midway between harsh disapproval and a rather hungry appreciation. She tightened her grip on L's jacket as she was analyzed, the hair on her arms and neck rising under his scrutiny. Something about this man, something was off. His actions were hollow, almost seeming false in their innocence. She made a mental note with Ikiryo to keep an eye on him.

Suddenly, the criticism all but vanished from his face and was replaced with a welcoming yet apologetic smile. He waved his hands in front of himself, something she found herself embarrassingly focused on, and shook his head.

"Maa, I'm so forgetful. Where are my manners?"

He took another step forwards, an action that she tried to mirror until she felt herself hit L's chest in the process, and held one hand out towards her amicably. His head cocked to the side and a happy smile graced his face as he looked down at her. She winced infinitesimally at his bogus smile, before she felt a warm hand slide around to press into her lower back. L glanced down at her reassuringly before nudging her forwards a few inches.

"My name is Yagami Raito. What's yours, Miss?"

She stared at his hand, her hands reluctantly sliding away from L's trench coat to being pressed nervously to her solar plexus as her eyes flickered back to L. He nodded slightly and added pressure to her back. She hesitantly extended one hand out to him, gingerly letting him grasp her hand and shake it firmly. He smiled down at her, before his eyes got bigger and he leaned forwards slightly with a look of disbelief on his objectively handsome features. His mouth fell open with a soft 'pop' and his vigorous shaking of her hand slowed to a stop.

"Whoa! No way! Did I scare you? I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to!"

'_Come on you whore! Stand up for yourself at least, you sniveling piece of shit! Don't let this bastard fuck with you! Here, let me kick your backbone a bit and make sure that you have one….'_

She shivered as a quick tingle flew down her spine and straightened up immediately. Her hand, the one that was clutched to her chest, dropped down to fist itself at her side. Her head snapped up to meet his gaze, her eyes flashing with newfound indignation as he straightened in response and leaned away from her a little. He let her fingers slide through his and pulled his hand back, the look of surprise turning to a look of partially guarded caution.

She stood up her full height, partially rolling her weight on her toes, and leaned away from L and towards this 'Raito'. She let her tongue dart out to wet her lips quickly before she spoke, her voice accidentally carrying throughout the room as she did.

"I am most certainly not scared of you, you brat! How old are you, eighteen? Nineteen? I've seen things that could shudder you even in the most comfortingly warm sunlight! To think that a sheltered kid like you could possibly scare me."

She couldn't help but glare up at him, her anger at his falsity leaking into her mere annoyance at his crude assumption and fanning it into a rage over his insolence.

'_You were too scared of him, you whore. Filthy lying slut.'_

Her angry spell was broken as she heard a deep chuckle reverberate through the strong chest behind her. She turned her upper body to stare at him quizzically, an exasperated sigh slipping through her teeth as her shoulders slumped. He was laughing, his eyes shut carelessly and his face cast downwards as a smile grew on his lips. One of his warm hands rested on her shoulder as he looked up, past her to Raito.

"You'd better be careful Raito-kun, she's liable to take some of your fingers."

She watched as the brunette's eyes stared wonderingly at the detective before him. She inwardly smiled at the entirely dumbfounded stare on Raito's face before crossing her arms over her chest and leering back up at him.

"You can call me Rue."

She glanced around the room, a hint of her previous hesitation enveloping her as she saw all of the other men in the room slowly advancing towards them. The warmth of L's hand seeped through the material of her clothes and felt like it was searing a handprint burn into her shoulder as she felt him twitch with recognition of her chosen alias. She made another mental note to explain everything to him, regardless of his reactions.

"You all can call me that."


	5. Net Huda Bez Dobra : Silver Lining

She let herself be led to the couch obediently, taking her seat next to L quietly while the occupants of the room buzzed noisily with urgently voiced questions. His hand slid from its charred position on the small of her back to rest comfortingly on top of hers, leaving a small trail of goose bumps in its path, before slipping further to grasp hers warmly; so he had remembered her adversity to public speaking. She let her teeth sink down onto her lower lip as she stared nervously at her lap. These people were too close. They had all taken her announcement of her name as some sort of hidden signal to begin interrogation upon her; these men _were_ policemen, weren't they?

Raito had amicably taken up a seat on the remaining unoccupied cushion of the couch, the addition of his weight and the subsequent dip in the couch causing her center of balance to shift towards him once he had sat down. She overcompensated, innocuously trying to slide closer to L, and ended up falling into his side when she acted prematurely in her attempt to stay as far away from the newly introduced brunette man. He made a hushed sound of surprise, his eyes flickering down to lock on her own gray eyes before he returned his attention to the crowd around them.

'_Where'd that ball of attitude go? Let your backbone slip yet again, have you? Damn it you are such a little bitch. How the hell do you expect to be accepted here, amongst brave policemen? They don't want you. How can you not see that?!'_

She flinched at Ikiryo's outburst, although a black haired man in front of Raito was talking loudly enough to serve as a suitable excuse instead, and clenched her eyes shut. These people were working under L, and therefore they wouldn't be able to throw her out so long as L didn't, right? Oh how she hoped that things would work that way. She was, after all, an abomination now.

'_That's right, whore. You are a fucking abomination. A disgusting and unwanted bag of grime.'_

She was torn from her reverie by a relatively inoffensive tapping on her shoulder. She refrained from jumping at the foreign contact, her head snapping up to face the tapper. The man jumped, retracting his hand quickly and taking a quick step back, before swallowing just as quickly. She almost smiled despite of herself; this man seemed to be just as jumpy as she was at the moment. She froze, waiting for him to voice his reason for touching her.

"Ah…..um….. My name is Touta Matsuda, and, umm……I was wondering if you would give me your hat and coat, so that I can…..hang them up alongside Ryuuzaki's…….."

She paused, swiftly looking to the side to see that Watari had his arms full with L's tan trench coat and hat. She mentally whined, not looking forwards to giving these people her clothes, but, under the warm and expectant stare of L himself, she decided that she might as well. Trust was a two way street and if she wanted these men to like her than she needed to be likeable.

The entire time that she was deliberating inside of her head whether or not to she felt like doing as he asked, and later which way would be best to free herself of her tightly wrapped coat, Matsuda held his ground. Upon closer investigation, she saw that he was perspiring a bit. Was he scared of her? Well of course, there was the fact that L had actually warned Raito that she was capable of taking fingers.

"Alright……Matsuda-san, was it? You may take my coat and hat."

She stood up, relinquishing her inadvertently tight grip on L's warm hand in order to swiftly untie her coat strap and undo the three buttons that went down the front. She made sure not to show it, but when her hat was gently lifted off of her head by a shaky hand, she was surprised enough to freeze in her movements to remove her coat. The soft whisper of Matsuda's voice apologizing let her continue though. She was painfully aware of everyone in the room watching her as she let the tan trench coat slide off of her shoulders and into Matsuda's waiting hands.

She forced herself to remain standing for a minute longer before quickly crawling back into position next to L, who chuckled quietly as she scrambled unobtrusively to braid her fingers with his again. He dipped his head to the side just enough to brush the top of her head with his hair, an action that she drew comfort from before he spoke and cast her out of her comfort zone again.

"Yagami-san, did you have a question?"

An older man, the eldest there not counting Watari, stepped forwards, his mustache bristled a small bit as he pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. He cleared his throat, the low sound rumbling through the room, before he stared down at L with a businesslike intensity. She felt smaller under his gaze, and felt the abrupt need to hide her face in L's shoulder.

"Yes, Ryuuzaki. I wish to know why you have brought this woman to headquarters."

He turned minutely, bowing slightly to her apologetically, before straightening and continuing.

"Although there is nothing wrong with her, I fail to see how this woman could be beneficial to this investigation."

She frowned, her eyebrows coming together to form a delicate little crease on the skin between them. Beneficial? They wanted to throw her out. She needed to prove her use, to ascertain that she would get to stay here. But what could she do to prove her use? What use did she have?

'_Quit being so pathetic you little brat! What can you do, eh? Look around! What looks like it could use some help? What seems to be the most predominant problem in this room?'_

There was a lot of trash around the room. She looked around, making sure not to move her head and indicate her doing so. Most of this trash was fast food wrappers. So they ate out constantly? That couldn't be enjoyable, much less healthy! Her brain was working these facts, mashing them and computing….

She jumped up, still holding L's hand, and straightened up to her full height. Determination casting her features, she balled her open hand at her side and took a deep breath, fully aware of the surprise in the expressions of the men around her.

"I may not serve as an informational supporter of this case investigation, but environment and habits take their toll on an investigation as well. I can cook, and from the looks of it most of you spend the night here, and as a result of that must mainly eat fast food. If you let me stay, I can cook legitimate meals to feed all of you. I'm sure it would be more cost-effective and it will save time ordering and retrieving fast food meals that would be better spent tracking Kira down."

The elder Yagami seemed to be at a loss for words, but that didn't stop the other occupants of the room from chipping in their two cents.

"Oh man! I haven't had a home cooked meal in ages! Can you cook Gyoza?"

When she nodded to Matsuda's excited outburst he looked simply overjoyed. It seemed that she had earned herself a faithful friend in the young man. The next shout came from a different man, one whose name she had yet to hear.

"Do you know how to prepare Futomaki sushi?"

When she nodded again, this man fist-pumped and got a high-five from Matsuda, who, upon having found another supporter, shouted 'Yes, Ukita!' and celebrated with him. The next question, coming more quietly than the previous two, came from Raito. He lightly pulled on the elbow of her tight-fitting long sleeve plain white shirt to get her attention.

"Say, Rue-san, can you also cook Kakuni and Nizakana?"

His expression was contemplative and serious, indicating to her that this singular question was all that stood in the way of his accepting her into his makeshift communal home. She had to think for a moment before nodding, a small smile gracing her features before she turned her attention back to Raito's father who still stood in front of her.

"What is your favorite food, Yagami-san?"

She asked softly, hoping that her tone properly conveyed her apology for causing a slight rebellion in his task members. His answer came rough, and in a tone that conveyed his acknowledgement of defeat.

"Basashi and Imoni are my favorites."

With his answer, she let a winning smile light up her face. She knew how to make those! She made a mental note to put them on the menu soon. She knew that she had, (she assumed that he was the chief), the chief's approval when he gave her a small smile in return.

Her self-awareness came rushing back as she noticed many of the men in the room fixating on her grip on L's hand. She let her teeth sink down onto her lower lip and quickly reassumed her seat next to L. She pulled her knees up to her chest, her dark blue skinny jeans stretching enough to let her do so. L smiled, using his free arm to pick at a bowl of crystallized jelly candies that was on the side table. It was with that act of normalcy that the men began to trickle back to their places and pick back up where they stopped on their work. Matsuda however, lingered unsure before Raito; her attention was drawn because of his indecision. She inclined her head ever so slightly to look at him and watch as he spoke to Raito.

"Umm, Misa-chan was scheduled to come see you. Do you want that I should call her escort and let her come up?"

Her interest sparked with the mention of a girl's name. Where had she heard that name before? It sounded familiar, and she thought back quickly to where she might have heard it before. The Television? She hadn't really had _access_ to the television except for the past week or so…. Maybe in the crowds? She wasn't sure, but she decided that she should continue her interest. She felt like smiling when Raito comically smacked his forehead and let his hand slid down his face.

"No, Matsuda, tell her that something came up and have her come back in a few hours. Perhaps to have lunch?"

He shot a look towards her and she felt her cheeks begin to heat up at being caught staring. It took her just a moment before she realized the meaning in his stare; lunch! She was being asked to cook lunch! She most definitely could! She hurriedly nodded, mentally running through lists in her mind what would be a good meal. Bento boxes for the agents and something else for L, Raito and this unknown Misa-chan! It would be so much fun to make! But the ingredients…..

She shot a quick look to L, who was expecting this pleading look and was already watching her. He stared at her for just a moment before letting the smile he had been holding back slid onto his features before he stood up, pulling up her with him and holding her hand to steady her as she stepped down off of the couch. It made her nostalgic for a moment, that one caring gesture he made; it was amazing how easy it was to slip into past habits.

She needed to talk to him soon. Alone.

"Then it's settled! Have her come back at noon."

Raito's voice was set, indicating his decided mindset. She looked down at him, her free hand pulling the hem of her long sleeved white shirt from where it had hitched up against the couch back down over the top, button and zipper over her skinny jeans and further down in the back over her rump. Her voice was tentative, cautious with this boy as Matsuda left to carry out whatever task he had been given.

"Is anyone here allergic to anything that I should know about?"

His eyes snapped up to her, and she didn't want to fully compute where his gaze **had** been set as he stumbled over his words for a moment before standing up and smiling, and answer spilling from his nimble lips as he stretched like a cat before her.

"No, no one is allergic to anything other than penicillin here. But I don't think that you'll be cooking with that."

He chuckled lightly at his own joke before directing his attention to L.

"Ryuuzaki, I've been thinking a bit-"

"Oh. Well that's never a good sign, now is it?"

She glanced up at L, her lips parted slightly in surprise at his remark. Humor? From L? He was bantering with this kid like he used to with….

She let her thoughts slip from her like quicksilver and bit her tongue lightly for even tempting those dark waters. She was so stupid….

"Oh Shut up Ryuuzaki! We both know that you value me for my mind. I'm the only one here that can give you a good run."

She let her eyes dart up to glare at Raito. How dare he short change her before even seeing what she was capable of! She let a scoff escape from her lips as her hand drifted to smoothing out a fold in the material of her pants. Once she knew his attention was on her, as undivided as was possible, she propped her hand on her hip and shifted all of her weight onto one leg jerkily. In this defiant pose, she let her glare turn to one of annoyance.

"Oh how misguided you are, little gaki, to assume that you alone are on par with Ryuuzaki. You've set yourself up for a rude awakening, _Raito-kun_."

She accented his name with the honorific mockingly, letting it's assimilation with the 'brat' insult blend smoothly in her jest.

"Qu'est-ce qu'un petit enfant stupide de se plonger dans un jeu d'échecs sans avoir tous ses pions."

She raised a hand and waved it dismissingly before her face right as her smile broke through her attempts to smother it. She ceased her teasing of the boy, smiling straight out at him now as L observed his reaction as well. Raito was abruptly flabbergasted for a moment, before he downcast his face, effectively hiding his expression with his bangs. He chuckled before flicking his head back up and flipping his hair to the side in an attempt at attraction. A lopsided smile captured her attention, a smile similar to one that still haunted her, before she was brought once again to the present by his words. He spoke with a voice like liquid chocolate, smoothly trying to combat her dismissive tone with a charming one.

"Vous n'avez pas besoin de toutes les pièces pour gagner un jeu d'échecs. Il suffit d'avoir une bonne stratégie."

She nodded in approval of his comeback before L began to lead her towards a door in the back of the room. Raito was following them, so she figured that now would be an inappropriate time to bring up her important issue. She sighed quietly and let herself be herded nonetheless into a bland bedroom. The walls and ceiling were the same shade of plain white and one of the three walls was nothing but window. She followed him into the center of the room before he let go of her hand and made his was over to the sliding door that was what she assumed to be the closet.

She lingered in the middle of the room before moving silently to sit down on the edge of the neatly made bed. Running her hand lightly over the top of the comforter affirmed her first impression; a neatly made and _unused_ bed. She smiled inwardly, turning her head to watch L fish around ungraciously in the closet before producing a black beanie with grey trim. He smiled satisfactorily and slid the hat on over his messy black hair. She stared at him for a moment, feigning confusion just to hear his response.

"We have to try to look different every time we exit the building. A safety precaution, you know."

She smiled, nodding. She stood up and made her way to an ornate mirror that was hanging on the wall parallel to the window-wall just next to the door. She pretended to ignore Raito's stare as she lifted her hands to pull the bobby pin from her bun, effectively releasing her now curly hair. It tumbled down her shoulders to end halfway down her rump, even while curled as it was from being in a bun. She held the pin between her teeth while she went to work with her hands; she ran her fingers through it to unknot it briefly before quickly separating the layers in her hair. She left the under layer down, a dark brown tier with a black tint to it, and used a small comb that she pulled from her left boot to brush it straight as corn silk.

The top half, an orange that faded brilliantly to have marigold at the tips with gold-blonde fringe bangs, was pulled into a ponytail and then braided before she twisted it underside upwards into another bun, making the thin layer of intense copper that was a buffer between the brown and orange seem like the main top color. She tucked the tip of the braid inwards and secured it with the bobby pin before combing her bangs and turning to face the boys.

She knew that they had been watching the entire process, but she smiled and spun in a small circle in front of L and showed off her adaptation. He smiled and shuffled his feet lightly from his hunched over position. Raito raised his hands and clapped softly, his lopsided smile splayed on his lips as he took a few steps towards her. He stretched one hand out to run the back of his fingers down her back, marveling at how soft her hair was.

"Wow, you did that really fast! That must've taken some practice to-"

She involuntarily jumped at the contact and skittered a few steps towards L, her eyes wide and frightened on reflex. Her knees shook just a bit as her hand flew to the back of the computer chair that she ended up next to, her knuckles turning an even paler shade than they usually were with the extent of force she was exerting in her grip. She abashed herself instantly for reacting the way she did; there was no reason to act like that! That was Raito and he was just touching her hair! It wasn't even in a lecherous manner! Something had to be wrong with her.

'_Che. There is something wrong with you. You're a total failure! A waste of carbon matter.'_

'_Oh, why are you back? Can't you just leave me in peace for once?'_

'_Hah! Without me we'd both be resting in peace in not fifteen minutes. I'm not too sure that even L there would put incense at your grave. You need me.'_

'_Yeah, you're right… I'm nothing but a burden.'_

She abandoned her internal conversation, noticing firstly that her clenched fingers were being pried off of the computer chair by L's capable ones. She looked up abruptly, only to be pulled into a steady embrace. His warm hands pressed into her back, one sliding up to cup her cheek that wasn't cradled against his solid chest. Her arms were limp at her sides, the unjust fear forcing her to regress into a frozen state. Raito stood, worry written all over his face as his eyes locked on her shaking knees.

"Ne, Rue-san…… I'm sorry for whatever I did….. Is there something I can do?"

She felt him lock eyes with L, an action that effectively stopped his talking; L's hand started rubbing small circular patterns into the dip in her back. She exhaled shakily, when did she start holding her breath? Blinking, she pulled away from L's hold; part of her wanted to dig her claws in and never let go. She took in a deep breath before plastering a smile onto her face and turning to look at Raito.

"Ryuuzaki, can we go purchase some ingredients so that I may cook a nice lunch for Raito and this Misa-chan?"

She turned, letting her façade drop slightly whilst looking at him, and continued.

"And you, of course, If you want to eat. We could pick up a box or two of various wagashi."

He smiled, visibly deciding not to address her earlier lapse of control. He nodded, and grabbing her hand, spun her about in a circle so that she faced the door. She giggled because his action a vague and silent question of her status in her lifetime hobby. She had been a ballerina since she was very little, and he no doubt still had memories of her practicing for hours on end in their little room at the Whammy house. She had rare confidence in herself about it; she was sure that she was more flexible than most professional ballerinas. She smiled, dancing a few steps ahead of him towards the door and answering with a quick but skilled pirouette before she slid the bedroom door open for him.

Raito clapped a bit, his expression a surprised one, before he followed L out into the main room after her. Her shyness returned full force once they were back in the main room. She slowed her pace in order to walk silently next to L, who had nodded once to Raito's father before heading towards the door. He stopped to slide on a pair of black flip flops; the thick jacket that Watari brought him matched the beanie that made the tips of his hair stick out from under its rim. She paused, looking down at her feet sadly. She didn't have a different coat to wear. Now that she stopped to think about it, she didn't have much of anything. Her clothes had been taken from her a long time ago, and the ones she was wearing were the only ones she owned anymore. The tan coat and fedora were things that she had stolen, as were her shoes. She frowned, suddenly more disgusted with herself than ever. She was such a disgrace, such a failure. She was startled out of her bout of self-loathing when a thick material was dropped onto her shoulders.

Raito was smiling down at her, his hands not touching her but just lightly holding a long black military coat. It was wool, and was shaped to fit a woman. The strap around the middle was adjustable, it had a high collar, and it looked warm. She smiled, sliding her arms into the sleeves and tying the strap tightly. He smiled, as did L from his place by the door, and stepped back to look at her fully with it on.

"That was Misa's, but she left it here and never asked for it again. It fits you better though, and I saw that you had to tighten the strap further than it would have fit on Misa. You have an impressive waistline, Rue-san. Oh, it even has a matching hat!"

He reached forwards and gently tugged the rolled up hat out of the side pocket for her. He unfurled it, and held it up for her to see. It was a black wool beret that had a silk trim along the inside. She grinned, and quickly snatched it from him and slid it onto her head. She adjusted it with her reflection off of the glass coffee table's top before spinning and smiling at L again.

"It does suit you, Rue."

L nodded to further show his candor in his compliment. She walked back to the group, letting Watari exit the door first before she reassumed her designated place next to L. He had put on his jacket, and it fit his form tightly; the entire front was lined with two rows of buttons, giving it a military look as well.

'_He looks good in that style; even the beanie makes him look cute! You can look all you want, bitch, but you just aren't ever going to deserve any part of him.'_

She sighed inwardly, registering the words that her inner spoke as true. Of course she didn't deserve him, even as a friend.

She knew that.

...

**She hated that.**

**

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**

Hello everyone! I hope you like this chapter! If you don't, then comment and tell me why! Even if you do, you can still comment and tell me how it was. Comments give me a reason to write.

Explanations:

Food

Gyoza - Ravioli-dumplings, usually filled with pork and vegetables and pan-fried.

Futomaki - Thick, large or fat rolls of sushi

Kakuni - Pork belly stewed in soy, mirin and sake with large pieces of daikon and whole boiled eggs.

Nizakana - Fish poached in sweet soy.

Basashi - Horse meat sashimi

Imoni - Thick taro potato stew

Wagashi – Japanese-style sweets

Insults and Phrases

Gaki - Brat

(French) Qu'est-ce qu'un petit enfant stupide de se plonger dans un jeu d'échecs sans avoir tous ses pions. – (English) What a stupid little child to immerse themselves in a game of chess without all of their pawns.

(French) Vous n'avez pas besoin de toutes les pièces pour gagner un jeu d'échecs. Il suffit d'avoir une bonne stratégie. – (English) You do not need all of the pieces to win a chess game. All you need is a good strategy.


	6. Beregisʹ! : Look Out!

"In one case out of a hundred a point is excessively discussed because it is obscure; in the ninety-nine remaining it is obscure because it is excessively discussed. This Edgar Allen Poe quote is an effective topic sentence for today's lecture. Open your books to page 247 and we can begin….."

It was droll, how remarkably unimportant teachers became when their teachings are predominantly an underscore to every aspect of the daily lives of their students. Therein lay the point of creation for boredom, and furthermore a spark to the temperamental flame of coexistence between the students whom held no passion for the subject and the teacher forevermore forced to recite continuous lectures on the same mundane topic. It was a pointless mutual understanding between the two parties; the teacher inanely offered the information and the students reciprocated the action by routinely cycling through the actions of absorbing the reiteration.

"Oi, give me that back you bastard."

He glanced up from the comic book that replaced the worn out text book on the cool desktop that was attached to his assigned chair to stare at the blond next to him with patronizing eyes. Said blond proceeded to violently kick the leg of the redhead's chair closest to his left leather boot, the heavy clunk and resulting screech of the metal bar sliding a few inches across the floor echoing around the room while the other occupants of the room pointedly ignored it. He let a decidedly aggravated 'tch' slip from between his teeth where an abused toothpick was being held captive, directing the noise towards his particularly punkish friend.

"Don't give me that, Matt. Give me my goddamn comic book back before I put my boot up your ass."

He rolled his eyes, the orange goggles slipping closer to his face from atop his hair as he let his head fall to the side. He was sure that this action would upset Mello, but at this point the overly-read better-than-memorized comic book was paling in comparison to the prospect of getting thrown out of class because of a brawl to liven up his day. His premature excitement made him slightly giddy, clogging the troughs of his mental processes, his reply coming out half-baked.

"But you'd like that bit of punishment, wouldn't you Mello?"

He knew instantly that his comment had won him a ticket out of class; Mello didn't bristle like that unless he planned on breaking someone's nose. He ignored the comic book as it slipped off of the desk and onto the floor, his hands swinging up out of his pockets to catch the projectile tackle that had erupted out of the desk next to him. He fell, knowing full well that the angry snarl coming from Mello meant that he was about to be spread-eagle on the hard concrete floor.

Mello was a furious ball of growling muscle above him, the blonde's red leather-clad legs sliding to straddle Matt's stomach as he reared back to punch the red head across the face. Tensing, and realizing the gravity of his mistake, he snapped one hand up to push his metal-rimmed orange goggles down into their proper position before flinging the other arm up to block the first punch. His failure to think before he spoke had earned him a fully genuine fight with Mello; in lieu of the stage-fight he had envisioned to cure his boredom. He flicked his head to the side, dodging another powerful punch before his fight-or-flight instincts slapped him into retaliating.

"Augh! Mello! Get off-"

He flung his full body weight forwards, knocking Mello backwards into his unoccupied desk; the innocent piece of furniture toppling helplessly with the blond, succeeding in knocking over his previous desk as well. Mello caught himself, pausing infinitesimally to shove Matt's bag out of the way with the forgotten comic book. His expression only grew more offended as Matt got to his feet, noticing for the first time that the rest of the class had picked up off of the excitement and were currently buzzing with the sudden rush of adrenaline that permeated the room. The teacher had fled, more than likely going to fetch Roger to dish out punishments and reprimands, leaving the room to morph into a ring of rowdy students all cheering for entertainment's sake.

"Damn it! You are such a fucking moron, Matt! You couldn't have just given me the goddamn book back? Why the hell did you take it in the first place? You have your own copy!"

He straightened out of the defensive position to stare at the blond, dumbfounded. His own copy? What the hell was this crazy bastard talking about?

"Mello, you really are a blonde sometimes. I don't 'have my own damn copy'. I have _the only copy._ You stole it from me for over a month!"

He considered waiting for his reply, but decided against loitering until Roger reached their current position in the complex. Although the surprised expression on Mello's face promised a good retort, he cut the stunned silence off quickly.

"Don't even mention it, you nincompoop. Grab your shit and c'mon. I'm _not_ spending the rest of my day in 'Roger Time Out'. Let's take the window."

'Roger Time Out' was the adequately dubbed attempt made by their assumed 'co-dean of school' for acting out. When a student did something wrong, then they were sent to the quiet kitchen to do various tasks to make up for their misdeeds. Matt didn't want to recount the numerous times that he and Mello had wasted hours away lounging on the cold and unforgiving tiled floors. Or the bruises and other bodily injuries he had attained from their wrestling on the same apathetic tiles. Or the times they had managed to get locked in the big walk-in freezer together.

"Whatever. Lead the way, douche-bag!"

He fought back the half-smile that wanted to display itself across his face before quickly scooping up his stuff from where they had landed. When he stood back up he saw Mello glaring a path through the sea of disappointed students to the window; trust Mello to be gentlemanly while glaring laser beams at people. He nodded once to his still visibly ruffled friend before making his way to the window, kicking it once at the right angle to pop it open. He pushed it further out with his hand before dropping through the narrow space. He let the plummeting sensation tease his insides before he landed solidly on the ground five feet below the window sill. He sidestepped out of Mello's way, picking up a little rock and chucking it behind him to smack the window shut as his friend straightened beside him.

"So, where to?"

Mello glared at him, his eyes projecting his remark just as efficiently as his voice would have:

'_Fuck you. This was your motherfucking idea._'

He grinned, sliding his backpack onto his shoulders before looking around in mock-caution.

"Well, the coppers don't seem to be here yet George, we should head towards the secret hideout!"

This distortedly voiced reply didn't amuse Mello, in fact, it only seemed to infuriate him further. However, Matt was by far the most used to Mello's demeanor and simply let the misguided anger roll off his back like water. He pulled the hem of his vest down a bit to straighten it out before setting off across the lawn towards a clump of trees and other such wild vegetation. He noticed the footfalls just behind him and was inwardly glad that Mello had decided to come with him. It just felt pathetic to sit in their old fort alone.

They trekked in silence, clearing the field covered in gradually longer grass before they entered the thick wall of bushes covered in kudzu. About five feet into the miniature forest the vegetation turned harsh, transitioning from kudzu and saplings to briers and hard trunks. He ducked, skillfully pushing one lone tangle of swatches aside to create a small pathway about ten feet long that had been previously cleared. He heard Mello cuss under his breath as the little thicket smacked him in the ass while he stepped forwards just in time to not be left out.

After the ten foot hallway, they finally were able to straighten up out of their hunched positions and stretch. The floor inside was bare, mostly level and hard-packed dirt; the amateur wood and tin roof that was strapped up to the trees about twenty feet off of the ground kept all of the smaller plants deprived of sun. There was an old couch, missing one cushion, pressed up against the opposite wall; an old candle lantern strapped to the biggest tree of the clearing in the very center; a ladder leading to a little half second level where there was a mattress and pillows and a few blankets; a few mismatched chairs crowded around a rickety wooden table; and a ratty old rug strewn across the ground in front of an old television with an even older generator atop an ottoman, with a large watertight plastic tub next to it to house all of the video games and consoles and controllers.

"Oh no, this isn't nostalgic at **all**!"

This was the first time Mello had been to the fort in a few good, long months. He was standing over by the table in partial awe at the remembrance of the scuff marks on the edge opposite the wall of solid plant-life. His hand slid from the center of the table to trail down the marred edge with a sentimental expression on his face. He was remembering the same thing that Matt was, replaying the events in his mind. Matt knew that he was. There was never any doubt where his mind was when his eyes got that specifically glassy and distant look in his eyes.

* * *

_The sky shook with the force of the thunder that ravaged it, causing the earth to tremble beneath its cloudy expanse in just the same manner. The small river that ran through the thick bushes and briers alongside the fort was engorged, a few runoff's cutting across the floor of the fort and making Matt huff and start to lay down the plywood on top of two by fours over the natural little ruts made my the water and set everything up on higher ground. _

"_We should have gone back inside before the rain started, Matt."_

_ Mello was up on the second floor, staring down at him as he picked up one side of the sofa and slid the plywood under it to lift it off of the barely damp ground as a precaution. Their bags were on top of the table, which was up on the second floor along with the chairs to keep it clean from any mud or rain. Mello had a jacket on, a big and puffy one that L had sent from one of the many countries that he had gone to, despite the fact that it was summertime and the rain was like bathwater. He leaned over the edge, his elbows propped up on the back of the chair that he was straddling. _

_Matt finished with the couch and moved to ascend the ladder. He danced around the four chairs that were strewn across the mattress, gingerly sidestepping away from the edge of the floor to stand before Mello in his chair. The blond stood and moved backwards to sit of the edge of the table; he offered Matt the only accessible chair with a slight nod of his head towards it. Matt nodded back, a silent thanks as he kicked his slightly damp boots off and tossed them down onto the freshly covered floor below them. _

"_Yeah, well it's too late for that, the sun is setting and the rain is too thick to move through with all of our stuff; everything will get ruined. We'll just have to wait it out."_

_ He shot a pointedly teasing look towards his blond friend._

"_Why? You aren't missing anything, are you Mello?"_

_ He knew that Mello had a few…..differences from the other kids at Whammy's. He was fully aware that he had a different view on the world, and that ever since they'd been given a room together on the complex he had been gradually lowering his defensive walls and pretenses. Mello wasn't gay, not by a long shot. But he was particularly hormonal, and far more open-minded than anyone else Matt had ever met. It made no difference to Matt, but Mello was decidedly open to everything that he was offered. If another boy wanted, he was sure Mello'd be down for the ride. _

_ He also knew, and this fell under the 'best friend' category, that Mello usually met up with a girl from two halls over around the same time every week. He was sure that nothing major happened during their 'meetings', but he also knew they both usually walked away with very specific types of 'battle scars'. However, for the past couple of weeks the girl, a fairly pretty brunette named Ilaria, had been undergoing numerous surgeries for some hernias in her navel. Mello had been deprived of interaction of that sort for four weeks and counting. He had been progressively getting more agitated and standoffish as time went on. _

"_You know well enough that I am. Try not to be a dick."_

_ He chuckled, standing to turn and take a seat on the edge of the table next to the blond. He took to watching the little streams of water run downhill through the places uncovered by plywood. _

_ Matt was decidedly into girls and only girls, but that didn't mean that he was devoid of hormones either. None of the girls at the Whammy house had been interested in the least with him, more than likely because he let the world think he was an imbecile and hid his real talents and because he always had a video game in his hands. He had devoutly turned down any and every attempt by Mello, and knew that although he respected Matt's decision and knew the logic behind it, the red head was painfully aware that it hurt Mello each time. Just the basic rejection stung, and it made the blond feel unwanted. He had always done his best to show his friendly affection in other ways than physical affection, and Ilaria had helped too, but Mello had his moments of depression nonetheless. _

"_I'm just teasing you Mello."_

_ He saw the hope shining beneath the normally shallow and guarded blue eyes as Mello glanced up when he draped his arm across his shoulders amicably. He heard the warning bells go off in the back of his skull with that one look; he knew what was going to happen. He could practically see the scenario play itself out before him. Mello was at his most vulnerable, and in a similar sense Matt was in a similar position despite the variances of severity between the two. _

"_You're such an amazing friend; you even put up with me when I'm an asshole."_

_ Yup, bad winds were blowing right in his face with those words. The only time Mello ever got sentimental was when he was trying to work an angle. He kept himself from tensing at his friend's change of tone. He even made himself slide a little closer to the blond. His conscious mind was blaring sirens now, his deep-set traits wanting to resist the change in atmosphere. He could feel Mello's body heat flare up with his increased heartbeat. He registered Mello shifting closer, leaning further into him. _

"_You aren't always an asshole. Sometimes you sleep."_

_ Mello laughed, the sound coming off with a slightly flirty edge to it as one of Mello's hands drifted to trace little circles aimlessly on Matt's thigh. He didn't look down to see which hand it was, as he found himself noticing for the first time that they were far closer than he'd remembered. And that they were turned to face each other. He swallowed once, inhaling deeply, tasting the sweet air that Mello had almost involuntarily. He smelled like chocolate. _

"_Well, it's good to know I haven't scared you off yet. You don't know how upset that'd make me."_

_ He nodded, unable to focus on much else other than Mello's lips, slightly parted as he leaned even closer. Mello exhaled, his sweet breath tumbling over Matt's lips intoxicatingly; they were only a few centimeters apart now. Mello's eyes had drifted half-shut and his arms had slipped to link loosely around Matt's waist. He was totally open; offering himself to him fully, yet there was a sense of restraint to his actions. He was just waiting to be rejected, pushed away._

_ It was that exact moment when Matt decided he didn't care at the moment and set his inhibitions ablaze. _

_He shot up off of the table, the sudden action making Mello jump up too and recoil slightly. He didn't have a chance to talk. Matt was directly in front of him, flush to him, his arms sliding around to dig his nails into the back of Mello's tank top as his lips crashed down on the blonde's. Mello jumped again, his eyes flying open in shock; Matt let his own eyes slid shut as Mello relaxed and let his do the same. _

_ He slanted his mouth against Mello's, letting his tongue drift hotly across the seam of the blonde's lips. He tasted like chocolate. Milk; White; Dark; all of them. It was addicting. Mello responded, letting his lips part just the slightest. Matt took his chance, delving his tongue into Mello's hot, wet mouth. Mello made a noise, a soft mewl of surprise, and tentatively dragged his tongue across Matt's. The sensation was entirely new to the red head; he growled, roughly sliding his hands down to wrap tightly around the backs of Mello's legs, hitching him up off of the ground. He took a step forwards, forcefully pushing Mello up onto the table again. The belt Mello had on, a studded leather one, dug into the table, gouging the edge and side. He didn't stop to care; he only barely recalled the exact movement that resulted in the table being harmed. _

_Mello's hands wrapped tightly around Matt's neck, his fingers grasping at his red hair. Now that Mello was on the table, his legs slipped around Matt's hips and he locked his ankles behind him. Matt let his hands ghost their way none too lightly back up to dig his fingers into Mello's back again. Mello made another mewling noise in the back of his throat. Their tongues battled roughly, Mello opening his mouth wider to slip his tongue into Matt's mouth. Matt noticed, with some surprise, that he felt wetness on his cheeks. He changed a quick glimpse at the blond and saw that his friend was crying, tears streaming down his face as he furiously kissed the red head back. He wondered for a moment whether or not it was of happiness or something else…. _

_He was torn from his lapse in single-mindedness when Mello clenched his legs, ramming Matt closer to him, their hips clashing together violently._

"_Ah!"_

_Matt broke the kiss for just a second, his startled shout tearing from his lips with the sudden ecstasy blooming from the collision. A quick moan ripped its way out of Mello just to be cut off as Matt dove right back into the kiss. It grew more heated, Mello's hands wandering all over Matt's body as far as they could reach. Matt dug his nails into Mello's back, Mello throwing his head back. Matt didn't like that, one hand coming up to hold the back of the blonde's head and pull him back into the heat. _

_The heat between them, pooling at the juncture between their legs, made him jerk forwards involuntarily. He was reeling, his head swimming with lack of oxygen and other distractions from other voluntary actions. Mello retaliated by thrusting his hips forwards to meet the red-head's jerk, only making friction to fan the flames. Wandering fingers found the zipper on the front of Matt's vest, tugging and freeing the redhead of his first layer of clothing. Then went the black striped maroon t-shirt while the vest drifted silently to the plywood floor, miraculously missing the wet spots. Mello seemed to enjoy being able to run his fingers down Matt's abs unopposed. _

_ Suddenly it seemed unfair to Matt. Why was he the only one being stripped? It wasn't like it was cold or anything, but it just didn't feel very even. His slight obsessive compulsion was being obnoxious and intrusive to his otherwise perfectly enjoyable time. Consequences be damned, he was going to have his fun. So he drew back just slightly enough to pull Mello's black tank top up and over his head blonde locks. Mello lost one black glove in the process, but was far to occupied to care as his bundle of clothing fell to the ground alongside Matt's. He ran his fingers down Mello's chest and stomach, far more built than his own, before moving them back to where they had been on his back. This time when he dug his nails into Mello's back, he felt the sliver marks that were left when he let up. _

_ He pulled back unexpectedly, sliding his hands down to cup Mello's ass and pull him up off of the table. Supporting him with one hand, Matt leaned onto one foot and propped himself up on the table with the other hand; one swift kick was all it took to displace the chairs that had been on top of the mattress. They fell down to the plywood floor with a clamor, landing unceremoniously in a heap were they fell. He stepped haphazardly forwards, half-dropping and half-setting Mello down on his back before crawling back into position above him. He held himself up, placing his hands on either side of Mello's head._

_ Their mouths met again in a fiery hurry. Mello braided his fingers into Matt's hair again, exerting downward force as he did, making Matt flush up against his solid muscle figure. Matt groaned into their kiss, his tongue exploring his friend's mouth aggressively. He ground his hips against Mello's, the pressure and resulting friction making Mello whine with satisfaction. He broke the kiss momentarily to trail a few kisses down the side of the blonde's neck, his nose brushing his soft blonde hair once he reached the crook between his neck and shoulder. Mello's ragged breathing set a tempo for the rhythm of his kisses as he worked his way back up; his fingers alternated between ghosting down Matt's spine and scratching their way back up._

_ The thunder rolled deafeningly overhead, the rain continuing to pour while the last of the vibrant colors of the sunset disappeared over the horizon. _

_

* * *

  
_

"You know that I won't go back there, even though I don't regret it."

The red head exhaled softly, closing his eyes and turning his torso away from his friend. Damn him for even bringing it up. He went there once, tried it, and wasn't going back for another hit. They'd had too many discussions on the topic than he was comfortable with, and now wasn't about to morph into yet another one of them.

"I wasn't asking you to Matt. Our friendship… scratch that, 'Alliance' doesn't sound quite as gay… is more important than that."

He snorted at Mello's choice of words, smiling faintly as he fished around in his bag for his little handheld PS3 and his box of cigarettes. He walked over to the couch, flopping down and stretching out before producing his lighter from his pocket. Using one hand to turn the little machine on and the other to pop the cigarette in his mouth, he glanced over at the blond once more. The nostalgia was gone form his face, now replaced with slight boredom as he moved from the table to where he had dropped his bag by the entrance.

"That's good to know Mello. It's nice to know that you aren't _planning_ on shooting me soon."

He flicked the lighter open, simultaneously creating a dancing flame, and lit his cigarette. He pulled a long drag, exhaling the smoke through his nose, and watched his PS3 light up. He heard Mello digging through his own backpack. He was probably getting a bar of chocolate. The crinkling of paper and foil confirmed it as his friend walked back into the confines of the red head's peripheral vision. He focused on his Zelda game.

"Well now, I never said that, you smart ass."

He chuckled, taking another drag from the cigarette that hung from between his lips.

"I have to be, otherwise you'd disgust me."

Mello scoffed, tearing a piece of chocolate off of the bar with unnecessary violence. He crunched on that bit for a moment before replying, his eyes rolling arrogantly.

"Are you fucking trying to make me reconsider?"

He stomped…well he probably just walked, but Matt perceived it as stomping… over to a battery-charged boom-box that sat on a shelf beneath the hanging lantern. With some more unnecessary force he turned the dusty thing on and mashed the appropriate button to make the CD inside start playing. He turned the knob to make the music louder before going back to the table and pulling a chair out. He dragged the chair closer to where Matt lay, playing his Zelda game skillfully. He threw one leg over his chair, sitting in it backwards with his arms folded over the back of it.

"Do I look like I want a goddamn bullet between my ribs that badly?"

The music blared, contrasting wildly with the various beeps and other such noises that emanated from the PS3. Mello watched him playing with an exasperated expression on his face. He almost smiled at the humor he found in pissing his best friend off. He knew that Mello hated it when he paid more attention to his video games then to their conversations. He paused, still pressing buttons just to make sure Mello was under the impression that he was ignoring him, and took a moment to evaluate the music playing. Of course Mello would choose to play German music. He went back to playing his game when he realized that Mello had stopped glaring at him and was singing along with the music absentmindedly.

" _Aufgepasst – ich komme!_ "

* * *

The airport was packed, cars constantly flowing in and out of the complex, melding with and blending into the cars that packed the roadways around it. It was windy and cold, but a relatively clear night. The sky was devoid of clouds, but not of lights as the stars twinkled indifferently at the airplanes that traversed their domain. The gravel crunched noisily beneath his scuffed once-white sneakers as he crept along a brick wall behind a strip mall. His once-white long-sleeved shirt waved in the wind, making the same noises as the flags hanging on the flagpoles in the airport parking lot as he crossed the median and stealthily moved into the parking lot on foot. Cars honked obnoxiously behind him as one car pulled out too slowly.

He dove into some bushes just past a storm drain; sliding under a chain-link fence and dropping down further into a ditch as a security cop rounded a corner and made his way around the perimeter on his golf cart. He couldn't restrain the gleeful giggle that ripped from his stained red mouth as he dragged his hand across his stomach and felt the blood from the gouges made by the chain-link fence's jagged corner points. The lopsided deranged smile plastered itself onto his mug as he brought his hand up to his face; he inhaled deeply before rubbing his hand across his face.

The cop drove past completely unknowingly as he rolled onto his hands and knees, shaking like a dog to rid himself of the leaves and litter that stuck to his back before standing up and pulling his knife out of his pocket with his gloved hand. He flicked it open and hacked wildly at the intrusive sticks that grew out of the bushes around him, not before he licked the crusted blade from base to tip. The coagulated blood that lingered on it, from the freshest of the many victims whose blood still clung to the cold steel, came off easily. He savored the metallic delicacy before winding up and chucking the knife as far as possible into the drain pipe beside him.

Once he had enough space, he began humming a broken tune and slipped the dirty little duffel bag off of his shoulder and hung it neatly on one of the stronger looking limbs in front of him. He promptly stripped down and folded his clothes into a pristine little stack before stuffing them violently into the storm drain as well. He opened the little bag and pulled out some crumpled clothes; a button down Abercrombie shirt with a white wife beater as an undershirt, a pair of khaki cargo pants with holes worn through the knees, some crew cut white socks and a pair of black Reebok tennis shoes.

He promptly put them on and zipped the duffel bad shut again and removed a little stack of various papers from the front pocket, putting them into his many cargo pockets. He then crumpled the bag up into a small ball of cloth and set it neatly inside of the drain. Smile still ever-present on his features, he rammed his foot into the drain to force all of the contents as far back as possible.

The wind blew powerfully as he climbed carefully out of the ditch and hopped the fence effortlessly. He dug around in his pocket for a moment before producing a ball cap and putting it on.

* * *

Please, please please please please! Please Review for me! Please comment! Anything to let me know that I should keep writing!

(Cyrillic) Берегись! : (Romanization) Beregisʹ! : (English) Look Out!

(German) Aufgepasst! : (English) Look Out!

(German) Ich Komme! : (English) I'm Coming!

(Credit to the song: Total Credit - Oomph! Song = Augen Auf.)


	7. Vystupleniya : Appearances

The wind had really picked up when the quartet reached the outside, almost blowing Rue's beret off of the top of her head, if not for a quick recovery he made. They all hurried into the awaiting Bison, Watari hurrying to turn the heating on full blast. He was the first into the car, sliding into the back quickly before holding Rue's hand as she hopped in. Raito slid in next to her, yanking the door shut against the wind. His hair was completely disheveled, giving him a particular bed-head look as he turned to scrutinize the detective.

"Ne, Ryuuzaki, what all do we need from the store? Couldn't Watari-san just dart in and grab the necessary items? Why do we all have to go roam a convenience store? Isn't that a little, oh I don't know, hazardous considering our identities and ties to the Kira case?"

Playing absently with his fingers, he chose to ignore that pointless question in favor of looking down at Rue. She had pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and leaning slightly towards him and away from Raito; so she had read him the way he had hoped she would. He had absolutely no doubt that she was wary of the brunette; her intuitive skills were usually on mark.

Part of his mind reminded him harshly that he had no right it alluding to anything but what their past held. He hadn't an inkling to how she was now, not a clue as to how she had changed, if at all.

But where did Raito get, acting as if he was completely oblivious? He had to have picked up on her situation; otherwise he wouldn't have been so quick to offer Misa's dejected clothes to her. What angle was he playing, what did he gain from pretending to not notice something like that?

He knew that Rue was left with only the clothes that she wore. He was sure of it. Otherwise her attire would contrast his starkly; she had always been more comfortable wearing clothes off of the beaten metaphorical path. He recalled one particular day that the Whammy kids were allowed to go see a play, the very same ballet that motivated her to take up dance in the first place. He had waited outside their room, pouting slightly as he leaned against the hard wood; they were the last on the bus because she took so long getting ready. He almost chuckled when he remembered his shock when she had emerged from the room, dressed in a grey and silver gingham dress, complete with corset weaving, tulle under the skirt, and black leggings.

It upset him that Raito was being as rude as to make him spell it out. They were going to let Watari go buy the necessary food items. They were going to peruse a clothing store and pick Rue up some new clothes to replace the ones that had been lost.

He supposed that he was going to have to come up with some excuse for it; she had never been one to ask for anything or even be civil about accepting anything for that matter. Perhaps that she needed to be a different person in order to be safe around him? The safety issue had succeeded in forcing her to listen to him before. But it had also given way to consequences that he wasn't willing to bring back into the light during daily conversation. Perhaps that he was merely trying to recompense for the many years of birthdays that he had missed. He supposed that she'd be forced to accept that one. But that would also give rise to unwanted reminders of particularly emotional segments of her past.

He decided that he just wasn't going to supply an excuse. She was going to get a new wardrobe to replace the one that he had inadvertently cost her. And she was going to wear what they got her, whether he would have to force her into them or not.

"Watari will have that particular duty, Raito-kun. We have a different set of items to attain."

He had hardly noticed, or at least only with an auxiliary section of his mind, that Watari had merged with the traffic and was diligently focusing on getting the trio to their destination. With an upward glance at Raito, he was surprised to see the understanding in the boy's brown eyes. Upon further investigation he decided that it was a deceptively innocent, and therefore dangerously hidden, gaze, but one of knowledge nonetheless. So the feigned aloofness was for Rue's sake alone? Well then.

He was torn from his observations by a thin and delicate finger poking softly into his cheek.

He looked down at Rue incredulously. She had a look of suspicion on her features, gently prodding his cheek to get his attention. He cocked an eyebrow at her, letting her poke turn his head slightly as he stared at her.

"Yes, Rue?"

His voice came out faintly distorted due to the intrusion on his cheek, and that seemed to amuse her before she concocted a reply to his hesitant inquiry.

"You don't plan on making Watari buy anything premade, do you? You know full well that I can cook."

The feigned hurt that she produced to underscore her allusion to his fictitious doubt was humorous enough to make him chuckle audibly. He let his chuckle escape his lips as he raised one hand to lightly engulf her smaller one and remove it from his face. She was honestly more attuned to a misguided sense of uncertainty than to his true intents? No, that couldn't be. He stared down at her and reevaluated her expression. There was further understanding in her gaze than was in Raito's!

Part of his mind tried to calculate that this meant that she was agreeing not to make a scene.

…

Her eyes flashed a quick shimmer of silver before hardening back into their signature slate.

…

And the rest of his mind disputed that in the fact that she was far too stubborn.

"No, Rue. I trust in your culinary skills."

Raito's smile came into his path of vision as the boy leaned forwards to add his two cents.

"I do too! I believe in you!"

She turned away from him to look at Raito, an action that he realized did not sit well in the back of his mind, and laughed lightly at his enthusiasm. Her tinkling laugh, like the pealing of bells, only made Raito smile further. He was surprised to find that she had woven her delicate fingers with his while she laughed, an action that only confirmed his hunch that she held an underlying distrust for the brunette. He wiggled his toes into the warm leather of the seat, his flip flops yet again abandoned on the floor board, as he tuned out Raito's babble from his major consciousness and drifted into darker corners of his ever-circulating storm of important and pressing issues.

She had escaped from **him**. Escaped and sought refuge with him and his investigation team, hoping to keep **him** at bay. She had made her way to Japan safely, and was free for the moment. But that didn't mean that **he** intended to let her go. There had to be a reason for her visit to be an escape attempt at all. Something bad had happened over the years they had been apart and he had a bothersome gut feeling that it was something dreadfully significant.

"Ryuuzaki, where is it that you would like me to stop the car?"

Watari's voice, weathered and wise compared to the rest of them, drifted from the front seat in a relaxed manner, one that showcased his complete ease. L paused for a fraction of a second, reveling in the calm voice that had kept him grounded for so many years, before hooking his thumb nail between his teeth and glancing out of the window. There were many little boutiques that lined the street in this district, many sporting fancy French labels or other such fashionable titles. He smiled inwardly, spying a short little Japanese woman in the window of one shop, whose hands and upper torso were locked in an epic battle against a boa constrictor measuring tape. That shop would do.

"Here is fine. Thank you, Watari."

"Oh no, wait a moment!"

He had moved to open the door, his fingers only reaching the handle before a smaller set grabbed them. His gaze snapped over to Rue, confusion disappearing in them as she leaned forwards out of her seat to get closer to Watari. A mischievous sliver of silver glinted from her eyes in the rear-view mirror right before she cupped her hand around her mouth and whispered something rapidly into the elderly man's waiting ear. His resulting crinkle of a smile made L want to smile as well; she was beginning to act more like she used to around them.

"Okay, I'm ready."

Her delicate smile only made him chuckle as he ducked out of the car, moving quickly to pull her out as well and whisk her across the sidewalk and into the safe haven of a store. Raito followed, only barely making it past the door before it swung shut. Once inside, he shifted to stand in his usual stance, stooping over slightly and stuffing his hand, the one that wasn't held by Rue, into his pants pocket. He stole a glance at Rue, one that went unnoticed by the woman as Raito stepped up on her other side, and watched her silently.

Awe was written all over her face, her gray eyes wide and unblinking as she stared at the room before her. Her fingers clenched around his, an action that would have caused pain to anyone other than him, and her jaw dropped just a fraction of an inch before she sucked her lower lip between her teeth to bite down on it. He resisted frowning at that; she had a habit of biting her lip when she was under stress or other intense onslaughts of emotion.

"Irasshaimase. My name is Sennoka Hara. How may I help you?"

The elderly woman had scuttled away from the mannequins in the front windows of the shop to stand before them, looking them up and down with barely muted criticism whilst welcoming them in an almost harsh, flat voice. Her wispy salt and pepper hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her wrinkled face was one of underlying hardness, like that of an old drill instructor. He saw Raito flinch at her forceful voice out of the corner of his eye.

"Good Day, Hara-sama. We are in need of your services. You see, my friend here is looking to change her wardrobe, but does not know where to start. I was wondering if we could recruit your help in outfitting her accordingly. She has an outing with a very popular model later today, perhaps you have heard of her..? Her name is Misa-Misa…"

He wanted to smirk at his own on-the-spot thinking. Of course this woman would help, if the pursing of her lips and the refocusing of her technical gaze on Rue was any indication. A sideways glance earned him a full glare of incredulity from Rue's suddenly sharp silver-gilded gray orbs. The flat tone of dismissal from Hara-sama demanded both of their attentions.

"Hmm, yes, I see. I will help you, as you seem to be in dire need of such assistance. Tell me, young man, what are you looking to spend?"

He let a smile slid onto his features, one that he knew both Raito and Rue would know was entirely false, and cocked his head to the side.

"Why, Hara-sama, that entirely depends on how much you can accumulate for her. Our guidelines for money can be drawn later!"

The deal was set. The bespectacled old woman nodded curtly to him once, determination set in her expression as she turned yet again to scrutinize Rue. He felt her recoil at his side when the woman began to tap her foot, her eyes narrowing as she seemed to contemplate where to begin. He chuckled then, glancing over the top of Rue's beret to lock eyes with Raito. The brunette smiled, the type of smile that would make you worry for whoever was unfortunate enough to be the victim, and nodded in understanding of the message indicated through his eyes.

"Don't be fooled, Hara-sama, the jacket doesn't do her enough justice; she'll be harder to size than you think."

At this offered information, one wiry grey eyebrow was cocked and the stare intensified on Rue. He knew that she was in a world so far out of her comfort zones that it was like they didn't exist, and that this experience would be unpleasant for her. However, he knew that it was necessary. Rue needed to be pushed; they could slow down later and let her breathe. Right now, she was raw material for Sennoka Hara to work with.

"Come child, we need to get you out of those clothes—

He felt Rue stiffen, and could practically see the muscles in her back constrict through her jacket. He knew that Raito felt it too when the brunette looked down at her with worry laced through his gaze.

"—and get you properly sized."

She relaxed a portion when the elderly woman pulled the measuring tape off of her shoulders and waved it before her for emphasis. Then the tenseness was back as the woman shot her small hand out to grab Rue's wrist like a vice and impatiently drag her towards the back of the room where another door undoubtedly led to fitting rooms and the likes. He felt the pull before it happened, because he knew that Rue wasn't about to let go of his hand. Hara-sama stopped abruptly, feeling the extra weight, and clucked her tongue against her teeth disapprovingly.

"Now now, the useless boys can wait out here. Let go of him child!"

A scared look was shot to him from Rue's once again moist gray eyes, searching for some assurance of help. Her plea went by unanswered as he moved his other hand to gently pry her fingers from his. He let an encouraging smile, one that wasn't fake, come over his face as he squeezed her hand lightly before letting it fall down to her side. Hara-sama wasted no time in proceeding to drag her through the door at the back of the shop. Once they were gone, he turned to Raito.

"This was unnecessarily cruel to her, wasn't this, Ryuuzaki?"

He stared unimpressed at the brunette Kira suspect.

"Not unnecessarily, Raito-kun. This is for Rue, no matter how unwilling she is to accept it."

Raito shifted his weight from one foot to the other, slipping his hands into his khaki pant's pockets as his gaze took on a new weight. His demeanor changed without Rue in the room, a bit of information that L filed away for further analysis as he focused on what Raito was saying.

"Where did she come from, Ryuuzaki? I overhead Aizawa talking to Mogi about how she just burst into a sweet's shop and started for you; how do you know her? What importance does she have?"

"You shouldn't make eavesdropping a habit, Raito-kun."

He didn't give a real answer right away, choosing instead to let a particularly emotionless expression glaze over his eyes as he bored holes into Raito's face. What should he tell him? What should remain between Rue and himself? He quickly drew up a map of her past with him, dissecting it into two different layers in his brain. The Whammy house? It was central to their stories and as such had to have some part in her alias under some different pretense. Their separation for the past several years? The same. He quickly filtered one layer to match the other except for being altered for alias use.

"She is a friend from my past, whom I refuse to put out in the cold to face the horrors I created for her."

* * *

They were **insane!!** What the hell was L thinking? Where, in his right mind, did he see handing her over to an entirely senile and unendingly brutal woman as any sense of just? They were just being cruel! This was like the time he had trapped Mello and Near in a broom cupboard alone for three hours just because he knew Mello wouldn't like it!

'_He is probably getting a good laugh out of this.'_

"_You're right Ikiryo. This is probably more than amusing to him.'_

'_You didn't honestly expect him to let you stay in his hotel with just one pair of clothes, did you? I mean come on, there are probably fleas in what you're wearing now!'_

She knew that her inner was more than likely right. Of course, her clothes that she was wearing didn't hold any particularly good memories either, so she supposed it wouldn't be a big loss. Of course, the monetary losses that she envisioned this crow-like woman creating would be horrifying to say the least. She felt bad about it, but her sadness was quickly wiped away by the fact that L had regarded the money as being almost unimportant. He had to have some idea of how much this all would cost considering that this was _his_ plan to begin with.

"Okay dear, strip down to your undergarments and place your clothes in the basket there, if you please."

She nodded, already having learnt that disobeying the scary little woman was a dissatisfying idea. She undid the strap to the coat and folded it neatly over the back of the chair that the basket sat upon in the small, pale powder blue room. She sat the hat on top of it before shedding her other clothes and folding them and placing them tidily in the basket, leaving her in only her stolen white silk bra and boy-shorts. She hoped the woman would burn them. She wanted to smile at how easy it was for her to get undressed before someone now, and she supposed it had something to do with how this woman, no matter how stern, reminded her of Watari in a comforting sense. She knew that if it had been a man, no matter how homosexual he had to be to own a boutique, that she wouldn't have been able to even let go of L, much less get this far.

"Okay, now turn around so that I can see you."

She did as she was told, still unable to completely shake the wary feeling she got from being alone with a stranger. The woman who only came up to her chin, stepped towards her and pulled her hand so that one of her arms was parallel to her shoulder and to the floor. Inspecting and analyzing, she circled her in a manner that should have been reminiscent to that of a vulture but wasn't. She was inwardly very glad that the woman made no notice of her scars, little reminders of her past that she was extremely self conscious of. She had hunkered down, preparing to shut down her emotions and force herself to stand still with mental methods that were slightly overkill, but she never needed to. The woman may have been a tad but harsh, but it was surprisingly easy to withstand her ministrations.

"I must say, you have a better body frame than many models do nowadays, despite this little dip in your spine here. In spite of myself I have to ask, have you had any surgeries to acquire your build?"

She shook her head, rather confused as to why the woman was so impressed by her body. She personally hated her body; it was so flawed. She despised her weight above everything else. She needed to lose weight…

The woman snapped her out of her thoughts by skillfully flicking the tape measure around her waist and pulled it snug. She pulled a little pencil that had been stuck through her hair bun out and made a little tic mark on the tape, muttering numbers out as she began her round to get accurate measurements of every aspect of her body.

"21….."

Rue flinched. She had gotten so fat! She used to have a nice 19" waist that she had worked very hard for, and even then she needed to lose two or three pounds. The woman moved up to her bust, hooking the thin tape under her armpits and pulling it tight again.

"…38…."

She frowned a bit; how she had _grown _there? How stupid. Hara-sama moved down to her hips after another tic mark was made.

"..40…"

The woman moved to loop the tape around her thigh, one small hand moving to try and lift her leg to have proper access. Her resolve snapped and the clenching of her muscles locked her legs in place.

"Umm, Hara-sama! Could I possibly do this part?"

Her voice was soft, but sharp in her interjection. The bespectacled woman looked up at her, confused, but relented and handed her the tape reluctantly. She nodded, a breathless thank you tumbling over her lips as she bent over and pulled the tape tight around her thigh. There was absolutely no way she was going to let **anyone** see that scar. No one would ever see it.

"It reads….15, Hara-sama."

"Oh, call me Sennoka-san, child. What is your name, I shall call you by it."

The woman's tone had softened a bit, a result of being stood up to, no doubt. Rue smiled, nodding to her request.

"My name is… Rue."

Sennoka frowned, her eyes narrowing a bit as she absorbed the information.

"That name doesn't fit you. It is a Japanese name, but you don't look Japanese in the least. Can you not divulge your real name?"

She paused, before smiling apologetically and shaking her head no. Sennoka shrugged, muttering a quiet 'suit yourself' before continuing down her leg to catch the measurements of her knees and ankles prior to moving to her arms and collecting her upper arms, elbows, and wrists after quickly getting her shoulders. Then she moved up to her neck.

"12 ½…"

Unexpectedly, Sennoka snatched a hair clip off of the hem of her plain blue shirt and hefted her flowing bistre hair up into a twisted loop, clipping it gently out of the way. She gasped, before realizing how careful she was in clipping it, making sure not to dishevel the rest of her hair, and not to pull any hair out.

"Okay Rue, help me get an idea of what to look for in my store. What are your favorite colors and styles?"

She thought for a moment, before coming up rather blank and shrugging.

"I like most colors. I don't have any particular preferences. I don't like a lot of yellow, although it is a pretty color, and I'm not too principally fond of fuchsias. As for styles, I really have no idea. "

Sennoka seemed to accept her answer, replacing the measuring tape over her shoulders and sliding the pencil back into her hair. She motioned to an empty chair by a mirror across the small room from the one with the basket. Taking the hint, Rue moved to sit delicately in the chair, crossing her ankles and folding her hands out of habitual manners.

"Alright, just wait in here for a moment while I go fetch a few sample outfits for you to try."

She nodded, noticing for the first time how warm the little room was, and how prettily the candle lantern cast a warm glow on the baby blue walls and powder blue carpet. With one last reciprocate nod, Sennoka had slipped through the wooden sliding door before any of the warm air could escape.

* * *

He slipped silently up next to a car; this one was a blue sedan. The wind blew more violently, whistling past the sleek cars of the 'away on flight' section to buffet him unmercifully. He ducked under, quickly and skillfully finding the spare key in a little magnetic box on the underside of the passenger side door. Humming a quiet little clipped tune, he slipped the box off with his gloved hand and removed the key silently. He stood up, still stooped over slightly as he rapidly popped the door open and slid into the car. He flicked the light switch, keeping even the auxiliary lights off as he picked up what looked like a crumpled paper towel off of the floor board. He smiled crookedly, using it to wipe the blood, his blood, off of his cheeks before the wild wind dried it. He looked at the now stained napkin, marveling at the red streaks that had turned a darker brown around the edges. He began to tear it into four pieces, laying them out in his lap.

"Now now, little policemen of the universe, no snail trails for your trained pets to pick up on."

Crumpling each of the pieces separately, he popped one into his mouth, chewing slowly to savor the distinct flavor. While he was chewing, he dug through his pocket to pull out the stack of papers. Flipping through them, he produced an I.D, plane tickets, and the contents of a wallet. Looking at the I.D, he pulled out a little white and blue case from another cargo pocket. Unscrewing the lids, he popped the contact lenses into his eyes. Blinking, he glanced in the rear-view mirror to check that his eyes were indeed blue now.

Popping another soaked paper towel into his mouth, he swallowed the partially deteriorated other one and started chewing the new one. From the same pocket as the contacts he produced a bottle of wash-out hair dye. Flicking his head to the side, the hat tumbled into the seat opposite him. He poured the contents of the bottle onto the top of his head, setting the papers down on his leg, and rubbed his hair vigorously with the bottom of the bottle. Before him, in the mirror, he watched his hair turn a light chestnut color. He tossed the empty bottle of hair dye into the back seat and pulled out another bottle of hair product. He dumped this into his hair and sleeked his now brown hair back, pulling the very tips at the back into a small pony tail and tying it with a rubber band out of the cup holder of the sedan.

He bobbed his head back and forth, waiting for his hair to dry partially enough to hold the sleek shape. Meanwhile, he swallowed, licking his lips, and tossed another crumpled piece of bloody paper into his mouth and resumed chewing. He popped open the glove box of the car, and after rummaging around a good bit, pulled out a brown eyebrow makeup pencil and drew a nice little mole on his cheek in the right place, checking his work with the I.D card. Once done, he continued to twist the little stick until all of the makeup was sticking out of the end. He snapped it off and stuck it in his mouth with the currently digesting wad of moist paper towel and blood.

Chewing for a little longer and swallowing again, he collected the papers and stuffed them back in his pocket before tossing the last ball of paper into his mouth and opening the door. Stepping out, he pressed the lock button and slid the key back into the magnetic box. Putting it back in its place, he closed the door and started to walk away, whistling an entirely different tune. Suddenly he froze, turning on his heel to stare at the car angrily. Raising both arms straight out in front of him; he made his hands into little guns and closed one eye.

"Pew! Pew—Pew!"

He pretended that the recoils were going through him, violently shaking his frame, before the last one, 'BANG', knocked him backwards the farthest, leaving him on his back on the hard, cold asphalt. Grinning, he rolled backwards before jumping up onto his feet and strolling back up to the side of the car. He knelt, tearing the little box off of the car and ripping the key back out of it. His grin instantly turned into a grim scowl as he uncaringly chucked the empty box over his shoulder, where he heard it collide with a car some hundred feet away. Jamming the key into the door, he wretched the door open, not bothering with the lights this time, and grabbing his new hat off of the floor board where it had fallen off of the seat. He set the key down on the dashboard, in plain sight, and pressed the lock button again before slamming the door shut.

He began to walk away again, ramming the hat down on his now dried and hardened chestnut hair, and slowed his footfalls to a lazy stroll. His scowl was replaced by a charming, balanced smile that crinkled the edges of his new blue eyes. Producing out of his pocket a thin steel chain, he slid the crucifix over his hat and let it fall onto his chest, the chain raising cold goose-bumps along where it lay against his pale neck. He strolled across the remaining part of the parking lot to wave amicably at the guard by the door and step through the automatic doors of the airport. He nodded to the guard on the inside, waving and offering happily a long and drawling,

"Good Afternoon, Ma'am."

* * *

His cup of tea sat half empty, steaming on the table top as Roger leaned over it, letting the steam fog up his glasses as he sighed, slumping forwards. The person who sat across from him was playing with a stand of his shock of white hair, his knees to his chest, his toy robot sitting on the table in front of him.

"Well, I approve of and agree with your decision to send the successors to his location. Although I have to let you know that Mello will refuse to go without Matt, so you'll need an extra airplane ticket."

The old man sat up, knitting his fingers over his cup of tea, his elbows propped on the table. He nodded, mouth partially opened to say something, but not making a noise. He picked up his cup of tea and sipped it, his glasses teetering on the edge of falling off of his nose as he did.

"We should leave as soon as possible so as to lower the percent chance that we end up on the same plane to Japan as Beyond. Once he reaches England, than he'll know of our movements. We have to get to Japan before he get's to England. We need to move now."

Roger nodded again, putting his tea down and pushing away from the table to stand up. He picked up the tea cup and its saucer, moving to place the both of them in the sink. He shuffled back to the table, looking like he was chewing his words before he decided to spit them out.

"How soon will you be packed? And do you know where Mello and Matt are? They've been missing since they disrupted their class today. I'm sure you remember."

He nodded, mulling over the questions and information thoughtfully. His finger curled around a lock of his white hair, his toes twiddling on the edge of his chair.

"I will be packed in less than fifteen minutes. And yes, I do know the whereabouts of Mello and Matt. I have absolutely no idea how much time it will take to get them from their current position to their room, and an even further lack of knowledge on how long it would take them to be packed and ready. I was there for their fight, yes."

Roger nodded, shuffling his way out of the kitchen to his office in order to make the necessary calls for the plane flight.

"I expect you to be ready to go in just under an hour. You have this much time because I put you in charge of getting Matt and Mello ready as well."

* * *

Please, please review. It makes me very happy when my readers review.

That and I know that there have been at least 11 visits to my latest chapter, yet no reviews yet on any of the chapters. I cannot fathom why, aside from reader laze. Please review, and tell me what you think of the story. Or what needs to be fixed. Or anything at all, so long as it's in review format.

Special thanks to invisible-gurl for favoriting this story.

(Japanese) いらっしゃいませ : (Romanization) Irasshaimase : (English) Welcome!


	8. Yabloki? : Apples?

Before this chapter begins, a Special Thanks to **nine lifes** for being the first to review!

**Nine lifes**- Thank you so much for your review, which was far more elaborate than I anticipated it to be in any matter. It truly brought joy to my heart to know that someone was actually enjoying my story, and that it wasn't simply absorbing idle memory on the computer as well as sapping my concentration needlessly.

I am so glad that you enjoy the child of my boredom: Rue-chan. To give a slight spoiler, her name isn't actually 'Rue'; hence her nickname being so obtuse when in respect to her alias. I tried very diligently to obtain a proper scope of Mello and Matt. (I do so love them, although L is still number one.) Their relationship is a complex one, but I will warn you that I am going to try and refrain from molding them into a concretely homosexual couple. I prefer them as a duo; a couplet; partners in crime.

I am correspondingly delighted that you approve of my portrayal of L; he isn't an easy one to capture properly. The same is true for **B**eyond, and that difficulty bothers me. It makes me doubt my attempted depiction of him.

You brought many things to my attention as well, such as the Raito-conundrum, in addition to making my spirits lift about other things. I want to let you know that Raito has flirted with her, albeit briefly, but has also not been left alone with her as of yet. To flirt so openly with her before L would give rise to a bad situation. (You have begun to give me ideas…)

Similarly, it spurred me to do at least part of this chapter from Raito's perspective, so thank you yet again.

…

Gods of Death will speak in normal patterns, just the way I write people talking, but will only be heard by those who have that ability.

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN DEATHNOTE OR IT'S CHARACTERS IN ANY MANNER. THE ONLY ASPECTS OF THIS STORY THAT I HAVE CONSIDERABLE CLAIM TO ARE RUE AND THE PLOT BEHIND HER. I ALSO OWN AN L PLUSH DOLL. AND SEVERAL ARTICLES OF CLOTHING BEARING EITHER HIS SYMBOLS OR HIS PROFILE OR BOTH.** I wish I owned L…

So, here we go!

* * *

It was trying on his patience, sitting alone with the detective in an overwhelmingly feminine boutique. Or rather, as he sat with his ankle set atop his knee while the black haired man feigned interest in a rack of clothing. He repented his impatience, reveling in the fact that it gave him good time to think. He let his eyes wander aimlessly, adequately assuming a convincingly absentminded expression as he mulled over the recent happenings.

'_This new girl….Rue...she must be of great importance to L. This is good. This means that she must know his real name. I have to get close to her; I need to meld myself with her to gain the necessary information. It seems that my Matsuda-impression has amused her so far, so it might be beneficial to continue it before slowly and gradually fading into closer relations with her.'_

"Say, Raito, when do I get another apple?"

He was pulled from his musings, however unnoticeably, by Ryuk, whom decided to materialize his head onto a mannequin's body. The god of death was smiling his macabre grin, waiting patiently for an answer to his not so patient question. Raito wished he could beat him violently with an apple, rather than feed him one, but refrained from even acknowledging his presence as an alternative response. He was still upset with the foolish shinigami. L was still staring through the high-fashion clothes that he was pawing through robotically, how droll.

"Now Raito, you _still_ haven't forgiven me for that bothersome incident with Sayu? What was I supposed to do, just hold the apple still in the air while she stared? Of course I ate it! Mmm….it was so juicy….."

Oh what a ridiculous nuisance. Why did he have to deal with such a moronic god of death? What was it that Ryuk had said in defense when he had questioned the shinigami on his motives? He had been _bored?? _How was it possible, much less acceptable, to be bored when you live as a god of death! He had total control, yet the idiot was as oblivious to the power at his disposal as to give it away for a mere bout of entertainment.

"Raito-kun, you shouldn't day dream. Make yourself useful and find something for Misa. Don't boyfriends usually dote upon their girlfriends? If you didn't it'd raise your percent chance of being Kira by one-point-five…"

He let his eyes snap up to look at L, his face betraying nothing of his thoughts as he stood up. Stretching momentarily, he made his way over to the raven-haired man, eyeing the frills on a skirt that he passed disapprovingly. Women enjoyed wearing stuff like this?

"Oh course, Ryuuzaki. I had been admiring a dress that we passed by the door…"

He made his way to the door, picking the first black dress that he found off of the rack and grabbing the hanger. The one he chose was a black lace party dress, the tag reading 'Nika' and '26826 ¥'. It was navy blue, fading to sky blue on each layer of the skirt as well as the bodice, with black lace on the edges and intricate undecipherable black embroidery everywhere in between. He wanted to say that it was a pretty dress, one that looked nice on a mannequin or probably on Sayu, but the idea of actually giving it to Misa and watching her wear it was sort of sickening. She was so obnoxious…

"That is a very nice dress, Raito-kun. Set it on that chair there and I will take care of the payment."

L had glanced up from the current article of clothing in his hands, a fuchsia ruffled blouse made of silk and faux snakeskin, to look at the dress. Raito paused, staring dumbfounded at the bizarre shirt in the detective's hands. Were women as a whole going crazy? Who in their right mind would wear such a hideous blouse? What was wrong with the world?

He made a mental note to kill whatever criminal produced such a ludicrous piece of clothing, tearing his gaze from the monstrosity to walk to the indicated chair and drop the dress unceremoniously onto it. He turned around, sliding his hands into his pockets and leaning against the wall to observe the raven-haired man as he pretended to look at the clothes. He had a glazed look in his eyes, one that Raito had already assimilated with the detective's deep-thinking processes, and was flitting through the clothes much to quickly to adequately be considering any of them.

'_He's the last person I could picture having an interest in clothes or fashion, so his so-called interest must be fake. He's just masking his insecurity through monotonous actions.'_

Clicking footsteps followed a swift door opening and closing, making both men search over the tops of clothing racks to find the only person in the shop who would make such noises. She emerged from beside him, having woven her way expertly through the clothing racks, and came to an abrupt halt to stare at them harshly.

"You two! Go through the clothes and pick out a few things for the Rue girl. No fuchsia, no bright yellows."

Her hard, flat voice was grating on his ears, although it spurred him to reposition himself over by L and being to sift through the tightly packed clothing racks for anything that struck him as mildly bearable. L seemed to have gotten his concentration focused on the task at hand. As he was actually looking at what his hands touched instead of the glassy stare he had been working with earlier. He paused, taking his eyes off of the detective to look at what was in his hands; a silver charmeuse blouse that was modeled after— he looked at the tag and it just said tadashi blouse. He nodded, his lips twisting down at the corners as he weighed the designs in his mind before nodding and draping it gently over his elbow before continuing to skim through the clothes, moving down the shelf slowly.

"Oi, Raito! Who's the girl in that back room? She's hot."

He grit his teeth, gripping a pair of pinstripe pants a little too tightly as he heard Ryuk's remark. How totally characteristic of Ryuk to be so crass in his assessment of Rue! He rolled his eyes, forcing himself to put the skinny-cut black pinstriped pants in over his elbow with the blouse and move on down the line. L seemed to be producing more suitable clothes than he was; he was slacking off! He figured that if he ignored Ryuk and simply tried to find clothes that'd be Misa's basic style but that are slightly less childish and radical than he'd at least be in the clear to accumulate acceptable things for Rue to try. He wondered briefly, in the dominantly hormonal teenager part of his very male brain, whether or not they would get to see Rue try them on. With the mention of Rue, he paused in his search, looking up and around as he did.

"Ne, Hara-sama…..Where is Rue if you are out here?"

* * *

~**A few minutes before**~

She had been sitting for a few minutes, but she had never really been one for sitting still for too long. She couldn't help the urge to explore the little room while she had the chance; she had jumped up out of her chair without making any noise to begin her little exploration. She got a little excited over the small discoveries, such as a short cotton robe that was folded beneath her chair. She had resisted the urge to dance a bit when she found the reason why the room was warm; there was a small corner table that held a bunch of needles and thread and scissors and a hotplate that was heating up a tea pot! She had stood close to it, basking in the heat that it emitted as she slid on the powder white robe that was made of a material that reminded her of bathroom towels. Once she had tied the little robe, the bow having ended up with obnoxiously long loops, she had continued to look around the room.

Now she was bored, sitting in the chair again, with her chin propped on her hand and her elbow propped up on her crossed knees as she let her eyes roam the no longer foreign room. Scoffing a sigh, she sat back upright in the seat and curling her toes in the warm and soft carpet. She was bored! She finally got a little taste of public freedom, one without the constant fear of pain that gravitated around her when she wasn't with L, and now was left in a little square room. She never had Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder, but she tended to have some of its symptoms occasionally, and this particular moment happened to be one of those times.

'_Stop complaining! This 'little square room' is warm, dry, lit, and you have a robe on. You've been in worse situations, you little bitch, so shut your trap. Don't be such a whiny whore.'_

'_Ikiryo, I'm not whining. I'm bored! I know that that means that you are too.'_

'_Boredom or not, having to endure your fidgets and tendencies is annoying.'_

'_Anything better than before though, right? We agree on that?'_

'…_Sure. Whatever makes you shut up faster.'_

'_Ikiryo, you are the one who always bothers me…'_

"Hellooooo—? Apples? Are you hiding in here?!"

She froze, her eyes widening as her head snapped jerkily towards the source of the noise. What the hell was that!?!? Something big, bat-like, and…..winged? Yes, a hideous winged monster was floating half-in and half-out of the wall adjacent from her. She felt one of her eye lids try to twitch, but she had exerted such total control over her body that she was frozen entirely. Had she lost her mind??

'_Umm…..Ikiryo? Have I gone one stamp short of postal?'_

'_No no, I….I see it too. What….what the fuck is it? Did it just say __apples__?'_

"Ooh! Aren't you a curvy little meat worm. Best that I've seen yet! And you're still covered. And I've been in a bunch of showers! It sure is a good thing that most humans can't hear me. Haha! She can't even see me! I could be shouting things in Spanish to her while dancing on her head and she'd be totally unaware. Hmm…"

'_What the hell is going on? Is he leering at me? What the fuck __**is**__ he??'_

She broke her stillness when she sucked her lower lip in to bite down on it hard. It was half thought out, but she had a fleeting lapse of judgment and figured that the pain would wake her up. It didn't, and she managed to cut her lip. Letting her eyes dart back to the monster, she wanted to frown; it was still there. Now it was getting closer, a weird smile stuck to its smashed looking face. She felt her center of balance shift, her body involuntarily wanting to move away from the thing.

'_Move Rhywy! Move! Talk! Confront him! Do __**something**__!'_

"What the fuck are you? S-stay over there!"

Her voice was faint, the result of Ikiryo's sheer urging her to speak, but it seemed to make the thing freeze regardless. The wings stopped flapping, and action that should have made him fall out of the air but didn't, and his jaw seemed to drop a bit. She swallowed convulsively, her lip going back beneath her teeth and coating her mouth with the rust-and-salt flavor as she focused on the pointy and sharp-looking teeth.

"Human! You can see me? Hear me?"

She nodded, her jaw locking and keeping her from speaking. Fear paralyzed her, her nails biting into the chair beneath her as she stared at the winged thing. It spoke again.

"Have you been touched by a death note?"

She felt her eye brows bunch up over her eyes, eyes that felt the size of dinner plates. What was a death note? She really had gone a few feathers short of a whole duck. But the notion that the whole thing was a figment gave her the compulsion to reply.

"What's a death note? What the hell are you? Is my wheel spinning, but my hamster dead?"

She asked him the last question exasperatedly; she was crazy now. That was definitely the problem with the situation. What would L think? She went crazy in a warm, soft, blue room. He stared at her, his odd eyes bugging out a bit, before he simply turned around and darted through the opposite wall from her.

'_Did he just go through the wall?'_

'_Yup. You're crazy.'_

'_No I'm not! If I'm crazy, that means that you are too!'_

'_No it doesn't. Not at all.'_

'_That's a lie, Ikiryo!'_

She was jerked out of her argument with Ikiryo when the tea kettle in the room burst into high-pitched song. Wincing at the piercingly shrill noise, she jumped up out of the chair, fixed her robe, and shook her head to clear her thoughts. Floating demon apple monster or not, that high pitched noise was hurting her ears. The thing seemed to be gone, so the only option left was to go tell Sennoka-san about her tea being ready. Burnt tea was horribly disappointing.

She paused, turning towards the door, and stared it down. Her ears were starting to hurt badly. Tightening the strap on the robe, and trying to hold the top of the robe closer together over her chest while simultaneously trying to pull the hem further down her thighs, she took a step towards the door. She tentatively let go of the top to push the door open and step out quickly, before sliding it shut just as quickly. She scrambled to clasp the robe closed over her chest and started to search around through the maze of clothes racks for Sennoka-san.

'_I've been thinking, and I think you might not be entirely crazy.'_

'…_really? Ikiryo, you think that I'm normal?'_

'_No no, just __**slightly**__ crazy.'_

'_I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up.'_

'_No, you shouldn't have, you whore.'_

'_Gee thanks.'_

'_But the __**point is, **__that you probably shouldn't let your crazy show to L. He'll just throw you out sooner.'_

'…_yeah, you're right. I will be careful not to.'_

She carefully avoided tripping over the leg of a clothes rack, ducking to avoid a stray hanger, and kept on tip-toeing to try and find Sennoka-san. She kept her eyes open, making sure not to run in to any unknown shoppers. She really hoped that no one else who was in the shop, not that she knew if there was anyone else in the shop or not, would see her the way she was at the moment.

"Ne, Hara-sama.....Where is Rue if you are out here?"

She straightened up, hearing Raito ask about her. She could see _just_ over the top of the clothing racks when she stretched up to her full height. She could see both Raito and L, and according to Raito Sennoka-san was out there somewhere too. As soon as she stood up, she saw L look over directly at her, and Raito's eyes looked to her with surprise. Obviously he was surprised that at the mere mentioning of her name, she was suddenly right there. She wanted to giggle; her stealth was still intact.

She danced carefully around a rack to stand before the group, in a surprisingly large expanse where there were no clothes racks. One hand pulled one side of the robe further down, and the other clasped the robe at the top. She spied Sennoka-san over by a small table stacked with folded grey skinny jeans and walked quickly to her.

"Sennoka-san, your tea is ready. The kettle is screaming."

The old woman looked up, nodding curtly, before adding a pair of grey pants to a stack that she had in her arms. Rue nodded in return, before turning around and walking over to L. His arms were full of clothes as well! Was she expected to try on all of these clothes? She looked up and over at Raito, who had an arm full of clothes as well. When she looked at him, she had to use Ikiryo's force of will to keep from freezing. The monster was floating RIGHT BEHIND RAITO. He actually seemed to be smiling _at_ Raito.

L had turned to look at her, before pulling a floral print dress off of the rack before him and pressing it to her shoulders, looking very concentrated as he compared the colors to her hair and the size to her body. She looked down, admiring the lace overlay that covered the blue flowers and gold leaves that covered the white dress. It was pretty, with a black halter and an empire waist. She almost frowned as the silky dress was pulled from her fingertips to be set on the growing pile in his arms.

She was painfully aware of Raito's gaze. It almost hurt, knowing that someone was staring at her while she was so partially dressed. L had looked at her, sure, but it had been a quick, speculative glance to compare a dress on her. That was okay, and didn't make her skin heat up and crawl. But the way she knew Raito was staring was shameful, and uncomfortable. The worst part was, only adding to her insecurity and unhappiness with the situation, was that the monster behind him was staring in the same manner.

"**Hey, I asked you if you knew the girl in the back. She's really sexy for a human brat!"**

She did look up that time, feeling her eyes widen as she saw the quick glare that Raito sent beaming into the clothes in front of him, his grip visibly tightening. He saw the beast too! But… she looked to Sennoka-san and she was oblivious, as was L and all of the people walking past the windows. What was going on? Why was this happening to her??

'_Pretend like you don't see it. Pretend like you don't hear it. Pretend like you aren't crazy. Pretend to be normal. Pretend to be acceptable. Pretend to be desirable. Pretend not to be a fuck up.'_

'…_.yes, Ikiryo.'_

"Rue, why are you holding your robe like that? You have it tied, child; let it go!"

Sennoka-san had bustled over to her, miraculously having an open hand to tap sharply on her hands and force her to let the robe go and relax to its original position. She made a quick noise of surprise, seeing the amount of cleavage that was shown along with the ample amount of thigh. She didn't like it. It was exposure. It was uncomfortable and unwanted.

"Alright all of you: come with us to the back room where you can all have some tea while I tailor the clothes to fit Rue. Follow me."

She grabbed her hand in a vice grip again, and began to pull her back towards the small blue cubicle. She was relieved to see L following firstly, but then horrified to see that Raito was tracking the monster around with him like dirt on a clean tatami mat. She got her wits together, with help from Ikiryo, and turned around to see where she needed to move in order to not be dragged into a clothing rack. Somehow, after some deft maneuvers made by both of the taller men, they all made it into the little cubicle. Sennoka-san had skillfully gotten rid of the basket of her old clothes, and even more masterfully managed to take the piles out of L and Raito's arms in addition to the one she already held. The trio watched in awe as she swiftly exited the room with the mountain of clothes and scuttled away. They had time to exchange glances before she was back, tea cups and a plate of foreign tea cookies.

"This normally doesn't take me very long to do, but with the amount of clothes that we've collected and the degree of alteration that each piece will need, it could take a few hours. I must ask you all to remain in this room until the order is completed, and then we can discuss the payment and get you your things. Here are some cookies."

She set the dishes, cups and cookie plate, on the little table next to the tea kettle that her nimble fingers had already removed from the hotplate. Nodding to the occupants of the room, she left once more, her little heels clicking audibly as she moved around the outside of the room into a room further back in the store where her larger store of sewing machines and other such trinkets were.

Old, old habits kicked in and took rein immediately as Raito and L took their seats. She averted her eyes to the floor, moving quickly, precisely and silently to get on her knees in front of the table with the food. She gently lifted the tea pot, pouring the tea into the cups delicately. Gathering a handful of the small cookies into the hand she held L's cup in, she picked everything up and rolled her weight onto her feet to stand up without spilling anything. She forced her face to become perfectly neutral and emotionless as she turned to face the two, moving to hand them their tea. She went to Raito first, bowing deeply before handing him his cup, taking care not to touch her hand with his. She straightened her back before moving to L to do the same. Once he had taken his cup, she lightly dropped the cookies into his other hand.

She didn't rise from the bow she made to L as she stepped backwards until she felt the wall behind her. Silently, she folded herself into another kneeling position, her head bent so that her chin nearly touched her prominent collar bone. Folding her hands gracefully on her knees, she waited quietly to hear them to enjoy their drinks and snacks. She even voluntarily slowed her heart rate so that her breaths were shallower and less frequent so as to keep from making any noise.

'_Good girl. Good little worthless bitch.'_

When no one had begun to drink, she felt her bones begin to quake lightly. She had done something to displease them. She did something wrong. She was going to be punished for it. They were going to hurt her. She was so useless. She messed something up! It had gone wrong. Something upset them. What had she done wrong? What were they going to do? Why was she so helpless?!

She heard the sound of porcelain being hit against itself lightly; the sound of someone putting their drink down on the little plate for it on the table. The muscles in her back clenched with fear of impending castigation; she forced her body not to move, not to show the fear. Her jaw was set, locking her teeth together tightly to keep a whimper from escaping; it was always worse when she made noise. Until he started demanding the noise, then it only escalated if she refrained from making sounds.

She kept herself from jumping when a cackle reverberated through the room; she recognized the gritty sound from the monster. The rustling of cloth made her stomach bottom out. Oh, she was going to be reprimanded sternly. She was going to be hurt…

'_You deserve it you sniveling worm! You can't even serve tea decently! How can you be so ignorant so as to believe that you have any right to even breathe! To even take up space!'_

What she didn't expect was to have a pair of warm, solid arms wrap around her. Her head snapped up just in time to be let into the crook of a warm, strong neck. She was lifted up to stand, her feet touching the carpeted ground for only a moment before a warm arm hooked under her knees to hoist her into the air. She felt her arms slide around the warm neck involuntarily, her lungs mutinously sucking in a deep breath as she felt the ground move beneath the warm person, before she was set down gently onto a padded bench. The warm person didn't let go of her, just merely relocated to be next to her instead of cradling her to its warm, solid chest. Once the warm crook of a strong neck wasn't clouding her vision, she had a clear view of Raito sitting opposite her.; And similarly one of the monster floating horizontally in the air from him, not even trying to hide his ogling.

"Rue, here. Have some tea."

She looked to her right, the warm person handing her a cup of tea before draping his arm over her shoulders. She took the cup gingerly, feeling L's hand burn an imprint into her shoulder through the robe. Looking up from the cup of steaming jasmine tea, she stared right into Raito's questioning stare.

"Rue-san, what was that all about?"

She felt L glance to her, before she let confusion wash over her features.

"What was what?"

* * *

He sighed, staring at the ground just a few inches away from him. Why was it that he was the only one who knew where Matt and Mello went when they ditched school? Why couldn't other people do this menial task for him? He wanted so badly to ask these questions, but new it better to just skip over them so that the real work could be completed. He had to go drag those two idiots out of their man-cave and force them to get their personal affects together. In order to do that, it was only logical that he needed to exit the house and retrieve them from their hideaway.

The problem was that he didn't want to step in the dirt. He knew that it was childish and impractical, but he just didn't like the dirt. It was filthy and disgusting and it clung to everything that touched it in the most revolting, parasitic manner. He preferred his striped white and blue pajama pants to stay that color, albeit wrinkled from being worn. He detested the idea of getting them stained with grime. He detested the idea of getting _anything_ stained with the Satan-dirt.

It was necessary though. He had specific orders to retrieve Mello and Matt within a half hour. They needed to pack, and prepare for the flight to Japan. Their flight left in three hours, giving them an hour to get on the plane after the hour of getting ready and getting the M&Ms ready and the other hour of customs and security and drive time. They didn't have time to misuse. He needed to exit the doorway and retrieve Matt and Mello.

He sighed, grimacing inside and taking a step out into the world of rubbish.

…

** Mello was going to pay for this. **

**

* * *

**

He smiled, humming lightly to himself as he tipped his hat to a woman with a soft face and long white hair as he passed her in the isle. This was a pleasant transition from completing L's tasks, although he had no complaints about helping his near-adoptive-son. His usual tasks involved policemen and federal agents, or with politicians or entrepreneurs whose services were required. He rather liked being able to simply stroll through a market, unhindered by a rigid timetable or impending mayhem should he take his time.

"Good day madam."

He smiled a little wider as she giggled, her grandson's hand pulling her forwards a couple more feet as she paused to cover her smiling mouth with her hand. Aprilette had used to make Englatine smile like that, and it was still a beautiful smile even if it was on a different woman. He had gotten over his loss of her a long time ago, and now the only drawback to letting his thoughts linger to her was that he pictured her. Every time the picture was the same; her pushing Aprilette on an old wooden swing that had hung from the bough of a strong oak tree behind their home. Her honey colored hair had waved in the wind, rippling out behind her each time she reached up to push the swing again. Aprilette's laughter had tinkled in the air, accentuating her smile and blending with his own as he watched them.

His remembrance was diluted into just a thin water color swatch of memory across his consciousness as he approached the fresh fruit stand. He picked up a box of the most fresh, ripe, red strawberries and set it down in the small little basket in his arms. Now all he needed was a carton of eggs and whipped cream, in addition to the other items that weighted his bin.

He personally couldn't wait to see how L reacted to the strawberry shortcake that Rue was going to make. He knew that the detective loved sweets, everyone knew that. But what he knew, better than most others, was that he prized strawberry shortcake above all of the others. He chuckled to himself as he pictured the surprise. It was going to be a pleasant sight, at the very least.

It was good to have that little girl back. However, something was off about her arrival, as with the way she acted. She wasn't always herself, and it was drastic enough that even after such a long time, he could notice it clearly. It worried him. However, he knew that with time, sooner than most others, L would figure it out and make it just. He trusted his adoptive-son. L was intelligent, and he would figure it out.

Walking back the way he came, he smiled and tipped his hat to the pretty woman with her grandson again. She giggled again, her tan skin darkening where she blushed. He noticed that her left hand was bare; no husband. Her grandson dragged her away again, and he continued towards the section of the market that had the last items that he needed.

He still missed his Englatine. However, better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

* * *

Hello all! First off, please review.

Secondly: I decided that Watari once had a wife and daughter, named Englatine and Aprilette. I'll give a better description of them at a later date.

If you have any questions, please ask! Ask away! Just put it in a review and I'll answer it in the next chapter!

Russian: Яблоки? – Romanized Russian: Yabloki? - English: Apples?


	9. Vverh V Oblaka : Up Into The Clouds

Another thanks to nine lifes for being the second review! And to icantseeyourstar for being the second individual person to review, third review in total!

**Nine Lifes**- Yes, I did indeed update. It actually seems to please you almost as much as it pleases me.

You have rather innate intuitive senses. Your guesses are startlingly close to home.  
I do plan to give you such introductions until I gather enough reviewers to which this act becomes unreasonable. It is good to know that Ikiryo is not an overly obnoxious entity.

You gave me more inspiration for this chapter, in suggesting a good chunk of MxMxN. Although not in the yaoi manner; as mentioned before, I prefer them as separate entities merely existing in the same ecosystem of literary settings.

Your critiques have aided me greatly, and I say that your reviews have given me renewed vigor on this story with the utmost candor. It truly makes me happy to write in order to please.

**Icantseeyourstar**- Thank you. It makes me quite happy to know that I am not the only one to question the lack of reviews. I'm a trooper; no quitting due to lack of support here.

I try to keep things real, more or less. I'm afraid that as it progresses, some characters will have to get bent slightly out of character in order to fit the lines. It's an unavoidable fact at some point.

Originality is another great thing. I would have to seriously reconsider some basic principles if everything that I created in my mind was actually from an outside source.

Why thank you greatly for your abundant compliments. I have tried [with ninelifes's help] to keep him as legit as possible. It means a great deal to have my writing be appreciated.

Your review was not ridiculously long. It was of satisfactory length and made my spirits rise.

…

Onward to the chapter!

* * *

Why the hell did they have to go to L? Didn't he have better things to be doing than babysitting? Or was this talk of him being the greatest detective really just exaggerating smack? Honestly, he and Matt could hold their goddamn own against some pathetic criminal that had already been put behind bars. He didn't know so much about Near, should the albino have the fortune to be pitted against a murderer, and that only made him want to delay the flee until he got to see such a fight.

He had to give a hand to the guy though; escaping Alcatraz was no laughable feat. But really, the guy was a lunatic and Roger thought that they were in danger of being outwitted or bested by him? Given, Roger didn't know about the weapons that he and Matt had stuffed under their mattresses either. Regardless, the guy was supposed to be what, maybe three years older than them? He could beat him in a fist fight!

"Ugh, Matt! Where the hell did you leave the charger for my phone??"

He threw the pillow in his hand at the red head, pausing in his mad dismantling of his bed to glare at him when his toss earned him no answer. Standing, and kicking the clothes that were strewn around on the floor out of his way as he moved across the room, he grabbed Matt's shoulder and jerked him away from the open side table drawer that he was hunched over.

"I asked you where the fuck you left my charger!"

"I wrapped it up and threw it at your bag. Dunno if it went in. Never was very good at basketball…."

"Agh Matt! You bastard!"

"Hey, I was only trying to help. You'd've never found it by yourself."

"Go fuck yourself Matt."

He stomped over to Matt's bed where both of their open suitcases lay open, and searched around them on the bed. Although all of the components to his bed were still on it, they were all bunched up and disheveled, making the process of finding an object that was five centimeters by four centimeters by three centimeters rather stressful. After ascertaining that it was neither atop the bed nor on the floor by his feet, he coiled and sprung up onto the full size bed. Landing expertly with one knee between the two bags and the second one on the opposite side of his bag, he leaned forwards on his hands to peer over the edge to the other side of the floor.

"You put too much heat on that one Matt. You missed by a fucking meter. How the hell do you miss by a whole goddamn meter?"

"Oh can it Mello; you've done it loads of times."

He rolled his eyes, gritting his teeth as he rolled his weight backwards to roll into a standing position. He moved back to his bed, not caring to look whether or not Matt had gone back to gathering his things. Matt had a habit of stashing little things in places to 'hide' or 'save' stuff, so his red head friend was turning every messy item over on his side of the room in order to find all of his lost shit. He liked rooming with his friend, considering he wasn't as insufferable as all of the other waste-of-space kids at the Whammy house, but on occasion his disorganized living quarters got a little annoying.

'_Are those gummy bears on the carpet by his feet? Is it really so hard to put those in a bag?'_

Of course he had no place to talk. His bed was surrounded by a moat of torn and crumpled chocolate bar wrappers of all sorts. However, and this was his deciding factor on cleanliness; He tended to rid the room of his trash every month or so. Matt, on the other hand, left whatever he used wherever he used it. There were tissues in a ring around the small black trash can; various snack foods crunched up by feet on the floor; clothes both dirty and clean all over the floor, his dresser barren of all items that weren't saved for 'special' occasions. All in all, his room was a pigsty and it was sort of disgusting in a nonchalant, friendly way, if that was possible.

"When will you two be done?"

A quiet yet distinctly annoying voice came from the doorway, making Mello go rigid in the middle of bending down to gather an armful of his clothes off of the floor and stuff it into his bag. Now he was less exasperated and more disgruntled. Why the fuck was the marshmallow standing in his doorway now?

"Near, get the fuck away from me. **Before** I decide to maim you and make us miss our flight."

"Roger wants you two to be ready to leave in fifteen minutes. Are you incapable of completing this task?"

His eyelid twitched involuntarily as he bared his teeth towards the white haired brat. How dare he insinuate that he was incapable of anything, much less something as menial and simple as packing a travel case!

"Das ist mir furzegal! Go away du verficktes abschaum!"

The next words came from Matt, a lazy slur of words that had a worn out sound to them.

"You're using Denglish again. None of us speak German. Use English."

He glared at the red head, his anger spiking not because of his insolence but because he hadn't realized that he was using German too.

'_Damn him for calling out my mistake!'_

He clenched his jaw, his hands fisting, before he threw one hand up to point dangerously at the white haired boy that was teetering treacherously on the boundary line of his safety zone.

"Go away Near, I can't beat you at anything if I kill you first."

He tried to keep his temper in check. He tried to speak somewhat civilly; it was his best chance at getting some sort of agreeable response. He never tried to go off of anyone, it just happened. More often than naught, he'd feel horrible afterwards. He hated losing his temper around Matt; it felt like he was letting his friend down. He hated that feeling almost as much as he hated being in second to Near. He hated feeling second-rate.

"No, I won't leave. You have to get packed, and I have to supervise. Roger said so. Just hurry up."

He sighed, trying to focus on the nails of his one fisted hand biting into his palm as he forced his body to move and grab a handful of clothes. Walking robotically over to his suitcase, focusing heavily on his bag, he began to stuff his things into the carrier.

* * *

"Hurry up, would you? You three are going to be late!"

He tightened his grip on his bags, bouncing slightly in one step to jostle the backpack he wore into a more comfortable position as he hurried alongside Matt and Near behind Roger. The car was parked in the lot and Roger was hustling them through the doors quickly, past groups and herds of people and through the maze of airport shops towards security.

Security was supposed to be easy, seeing as Roger collected every metal object that they had and crammed them into clear plastic bags for the security guards to pick through as quickly as possible. He knew that both Matt and Near, regardless of what they might have willingly said, hoped that it would go smoothly as well. Matt had only been getting tenser and tenser as they got closer to the gate.

"It's just up there! Get in line for the security check and let me go talk to the security guard."

They nodded, unable to pause and bicker as the need to catch their flight overrode the need to bicker. Near led, being the suck up he was, and Mello followed him without griping. The last thing he needed was to get probed for hidden weapons; it was probably best to follow the 'by-the-book' goody-goody. Matt dragged a bit behind, following hesitantly. He tossed a quick glance over his shoulder to look at his red head friend and saw an expression that he recognized.

Was Matt afraid of airplanes?

"Oi, Matt, c'mon! You're going to get left behind."

He saw the gamer's hands tighten around the handles to his two suitcases, the strap to his duffle bag digging into his shoulder as he sped up to get in line next to him instead of behind him.

"Ah….Mello…"

"Yeah Matt?"

"..Forget it. Step forwards; the line is moving."

They moved through the line quickly, setting their bags onto the conveyor belt to get loaded into the cargo area, and similarly putting their carry-on bags through the x-ray machines and stepping through the metal detectors. It beeped on him, forcing him to show his studded belt and crucifix necklace before stepping through and letting it beep for Matt's goggles and single plain metal thumb ring.

Roger hurried over to them to hand them their respective bags of electronics and other metal items before handing them each their tickets and pointing to the correct gate. He had no hand to hold his ticket in, so he got his between his lips.

"Don't get it wet Mello. The gate is there. Hurry up!"

Near nodded and walked towards the gate calmly with his little backpack full of toys and puzzles. Matt seemed to drag his feet even more as he advanced on the gate next to Mello. They gradually approached the gate, a thick line of people slinking through the double doors lethargically while a mildly pretty stewardess took ticket stubs next to the waving pilots. Mello ignored them, not even offering a polite nod as Near had, and jabbed his chin roughly to the stewardess, indicating his inability to hand his ticket over. She seemed confused, confirming his assumption of her daftness, before coming to her senses and quickly taking the ticket from him. She grimaced automatically, before catching herself and smiling again, before taking Matt's ticket from him and gesturing into the gate.

"Please enjoy your flight."

He just barely caught a mumble from Matt that sounded something reminiscent of _'Give me a pack of cigarettes then we'll talk.'_

The gate was dimly lit, leading to a smaller door that then opened up into the air plane itself. Once through the little door and inside the plane, he blinked spasmodically to try and lessen the glare from the bright lights. He scoffed at the sight before him. Without L leading the way, regular class was all that Roger cared to pay for; how cheap. He caught Matt pushing his goggles into place next to him out of the corner of his eye, before he registered that Near was seated already in a row near the back of the plane.

Glancing down at his ticket stub, he saw enough of it in focus to know that his and Matt's seats were on the other side of the plane then Nears. That was good; at last Roger cared enough about Near to make sure that he and Matt didn't have to deal with the albino.

He pushed his way past a rather large lady to walk down the isle, pulling Matt with him by sheer will as he did. Well, maybe Matt was following of his own accord, but he liked to think that he had mental precedence over the red head.

"Mello…."

"Ngh….vat ith it Matt?"

The red head sighed, reaching his hand around the blondes shoulder to grab for the ticket stub.

"Gimme that…"

Once he had plucked it from his lips, Matt cleared his throat and continued.

"We **are** sitting together, right? Oh……yeah the tickets say we are….never mind."

"I could've told you that even with the paper in my mouth, dumb shit."

They fought their way down the packed isle, pushing past lots of people who were trying to cram their baggage into the over head compartments in the process. Finally they found their seats, the middle and window seats of the third row in their classes' seating section. He stepped back away from their row, shoving a middle aged man to do so, and let Matt into the row first. When his friend broke his worried string of expressions to shoot one of confusion at him, he glared at the red head.

"To hell if I'm letting **you** of all people try and make our bags fit into a confined space."

Matt opened his mouth as if to reply, before closing his eyes and shrugging in defeat. He set his things down in the outside seat for Mello to position in the over head rack, quickly opening and digging through his backpack to produce a U-shaped microfiber neck pillow before sitting down in his window seat. Instead of using the pillow like recommended, his red head friend sat with it in his lap, his fingers dug into it nervously and his hands twisted it anxiously.

"Hey, would you like me to help you?"

He turned, his blonde hair spinning out as he did, to stare incredulously at the woman with clearly bleached almost-white, curly blonde hair that was standing a little too closely behind him. Her also clearly bleached white teeth chewed obnoxiously on a wad of pink bubblegum behind her carefully glossed lips, pulled tight by obvious botox and unnaturally plumped by other injected chemicals. His eyes wandered up her face, taking in the heavily applied blue eye shadow and false eyelashes, to stare directly into her brown eyes. This woman was so much older than him!

'_Cougar! Damn it! She'd better not be fucking sitting next to us. Or even across the isle from us.'_

"I asked you if you wanted help, cutie."

One wink from her was enough to make him slam the last bag up into the rack with unnecessary force. What the hell? This cougar was trying to flirt with him! It would have been okay if she had been closer to his age, but this woman had to be at least 40! Her boobs looked like floatation devices, and her nails were long and fake. It was disgusting. It made him want to shudder, the idea of even having her touch him with her long, wrinkly fingers. That was right; they couldn't botox fingers, could they?

"No. I don't need your help putting bags on a rack."

"Well, there has to be **something** that I can help you with. Is there nothing you can think of?"

He could tell that she had tried to make her voice as seductive as possible, and it made him want to gag. How disgusting, how revolting! Was this woman so desperate for sex that she had to resort to hitting on total strangers? Strangers whom were young enough to be her son? Or grandson, depending on the accuracy of his conjecture about her age.

"Uh, nope. I think I'm fine, thanks."

'_God damn. Why couldn't it have been a cute girl with big boobs? Why an old hag?'_

"That you most definitely are, sweetie. My name is Francesca; you can call me Chessie though. What's yours?"

"You don't need to know!"

Mello finished arranging their bags just in time for a pushy stewardess, not at all pretty like the others they had seen in the airport, to order him into his seat and save him from the cougar by yelling at her too. Scowling, he did as she said out of irritation, not submission. There was no way in hell that some stuck up stewardess would dominate him. Neither would that horrifying cougar.

A sidelong glance gave him a clear view of his friend, grasping at straws to maintain composure; a sight that made him forget the cougar entirely. His goggles were in place, but that didn't stop Mello from seeing Matt's green eyes clench shut as the air lock on the gate closed shut. He felt his eyebrows furrow into a worried look; he was unable to stop himself from reaching out and setting his hand on Matt's shoulder. His friend jumped at the touch, his eyes shooting open and his jaw clenching in surprise.

"Matt, what's…going on?"

Matt seemed to chew on his words before he spoke them, his gaze downcast and roaming everywhere except for towards Mello. He twisted the pillow uncomfortably, the microfiber beads squeaking indignantly as he did so.

"I…..I've never been on a plane before, and it's just that……I don't think that I like them very much…"

He swallowed convulsively, his head bobbing with the action. Any response that Mello had in him was interrupted by the intercom over their heads.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking; we would like to welcome you onboard this flight to Tokyo, Japan. Flight duration is around 12 hours and 40 minutes and we are expecting a fairly smooth flight with a chance of turbulence nearing Japan. Once again we thank you for choosing to fly with us today and we hope that you enjoy your flight."

Long, strong fingers that were adept at gaming clenched tightly around the pillow at these words. Even from where he sat, Mello could hear the pounding of Matt's heart as he began to hyperventilate. He began to get worried, involuntarily sympathizing with Matt's panic, and scooted a little closer to his friend. Matt didn't react, his shoulders tensing as the plane started to move slowly towards the runway.

"Matt, nothing is going to happen. The plane is just going to go down the runway and then glide smoothly into the air, where it'll feel like we aren't moving. Just let go of the pillow before you break it and buckle your seat belt. The bitch flipped the seatbelt sign on."

He flipped the arm rests up between them, removing them from his path, as he grabbed the straps to his chair and pulled them as loose as he could before buckling himself in as close to Matt as he could get in the chair. Turning back to Matt, he grabbed his hands lightly, prying them away from the poor pillow. He let the pillow roll out of Matt's lap and onto the floor while he quickly pulled the seatbelt around his friend and snapped it together. As soon as he finished buckling him in, Matt's hand began to grasp at the air, desperate for something to clutch and take his fretfulness out on. His bright green eyes wheeled, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps. Mello looked down, eyeing the pillow that had rolled just past how far he would have been able to reach with the seat belt on with vexation. Of course the pillow would roll that far. Why didn't he think of that possibility earlier?

"Chill Matt. Everything is going to be fine."

Matt didn't listen to him though. It was making Mello start to dread actually taking off. Not because Mello was afraid of a stupid airplane; he'd gotten used to them the many times that he had to fly back and forth between the Whammy House and the lowly dump of an orphanage he had been in back in Germany. He was beginning to worry about the effect it would have on Matt. He was already hyperventilating, and they had only started rolling towards the runway. He couldn't have Matt passing out on him; that just wouldn't do. Then he'd have no one to talk to but the disgusting cougar who was sitting three seats and an isle away from him; her stare even now was unnerving. He had to get Matt to calm down and relax.

"Okay Matt, here. Just breathe right, so that you don't pass out and die on me."

He reached over and pulled Matt's hands onto his leather-clad thigh that was closest to the red head, his hands holding them and absorbing the pressure that Matt was exerting.

"I……I'm sorry Mello……I tried to….tried not to freak out…but I just….I..."

"It's fine Matt. Just don't go ballistic; breathe and relax. Look at me, not out the window."

He slipped his fingers out of Matt's grasp momentarily so that he could pull the blind down over the window and block the sight of the moving ground from the gamer. He quickly took Matt's hand again, using one of his booted feet to make sure the chair-tables in front of them were securely snapped closed. A blonde stewardess was blabbering into the microphone about safety precautions and rules about moving around on the plane and other such annoying things. Mello scowled. Weren't people imbued with common sense enough in order to not do such stupid things?

"M…..Mello…..ah…..I'm get…..getting a little…..dizzy..."

He turned away from looking at the ditzy stewardess who was wearing too bright a color of lipstick to look at Matt. His face was getting pale and he was still hyperventilating. Part of Mello wanted to start panicking, and another part wanted to get angry. However, it was the part that wanted to keep his friend from having a respiratory fit that won that particular matter.

"Matt, Tell me how to get a nuke in Modern Warfare 2."

He saw Matt's green eyes flicker towards him. He wanted to smile, but kept his face serious so as to keep Matt focused. Nodding a bobbing nod, he let his thumbs rub gently over the knuckles of the gamers hands that he held.

"I want to fucking know Matt. Tell me so that…so that I can beat Near."

This lit a spark in Matt's eyes, the green orbs focusing slightly as he began to concentrate on forming articulate sentences to make an answer.

"F…First you have to make two classes…..the first with an M16 Hologram Scope…. Claymore, One Man army… Hardline, and Scrambler, the…..the second one with….SCAR Hologram Scope, another Claymore and One…One Man army, Hardline and Scrambler……"

He wanted to swallow out of surprise. He had no clue about this video game! He didn't know anything about Modern Warfare two! Although he was perfectly capable of starting a war himself with a machine gun….

'_Whatever keeps Matt's mind off of the airplane. We're picking up speed.'_

"Then what, Matt?"

"First of all, you will need to camp. Without camping, you will get killed. I recommend you camp in a building. Camp in a building that is close to hot spots, meaning close to where the enemy always passes by. If you don't camp in a building, you will most likely be killed in numerous ways such as predator missiles, Enemies ambushing you from many sides, Chopper Gunner, AC103, etc..."

He wanted to cheer. He had done it! Matt was fully focused on teaching him how to get a strategic nuke. The only reminder of his stress was on his knees shaking in time with his hands and lips.

"Now that you are in a building, you must prepare to ensure your safety, meaning keep your goddamn eyes the fuck open. You will also need to plant a claymore in each door. That is why you need the one man army perk; the one man army perk can also be used as an ammo re-supplier. Just change to the same class, and in less then 6 seconds, you will have refilled your ammo."

He nodded, keeping his expression serious so as to not discourage Matt's elaborations.

"Now, when you have the chopper gunner, you have literally activated the nuke. This is because the chopper gunner is so fucking bitchin'. You have to use the chopper gunner to your advantage. Think of it this way; 'If you don't get close to a 25 kill streak with the chopper gunner you have fucked your chances of getting a nuke'. So just use the chopper gunner to its full potential. When you get around 25 kill streak, and you are still in the chopper gunner, I suggest you stop shooting and just wait for the chopper gunner to leave."

"After you get a 25 kill streak and your chopper has left the area, you will notice a beeping sound. This noise is your nuke. You have it, and all you have to press is the right DPAD. I recommend you use it immediately. You never know what will happen if you tease your enemy. Teasing them can fuck up your whole goddamn plan and make your efforts a waste of good gaming time."

He nodded, letting a small smile break across his lips as he realized that they were starting to take off. He had managed to keep Matt distracted for just long enough, but now he was out of ideas. Matt's breathing was picking up again as the gravel against the wheels made the plane tremble. He needed to think quickly, lest Matt was going to hyperventilate and faint.

"Matt, Matt look at me."

He tightened his grip on Matt's hands, eventually catching the redhead's green eyes with his own. He let go of his hands, quickly pulling him into a tight hug as the plane began to ascend away from the ground. He heard Matt's breath hitch as the back tires of the plane bumped against the raised reflectors on the runway, his hands moving around his sides to fist the material of Mello's shirt in the back. The cold metal of his goggles raise goosebumps where they pressed up against Mello's neck; he tightened his arms around the gamer, feeling Matt hide his face in the crook of his neck.

"It's okay Matt. We're in the air now; once the pilot gets us to the right altitude, it'll level out and everything will be normal. Just breathe right. Don't pass out—."

He was momentarily silenced by a violent twitch from Matt that was followed by a wince.

"Yeah, your ears just popped. That is normal. It hurts like a bitch though, doesn't it?"

All he got out of Matt was a feeble nod; the hands clenched onto his shirt were still trembling. He sighed, running his hands up and down Matt's back. If the bastard ever doubted him of being a good friend again, he really was going to shoot him. Maybe only in the foot though.

"You've tired yourself out, haven't you Matt?"

The answer wasn't heard as a stewardess' voice came over the intercom while the plane leveled out. She babbled about something unimportant before declaring it safe to move about the cabin now and flicking off the seatbelt sign. He took a deep breath before straining his arm down between him and Matt to unbuckle their seatbelts. Being crafty, he quickly got rid of the belts that were constricting tightly around them now that they had been given the slightest slack and let Matt fall gently back into the position he had been before.

"Matt, take the goddamn goggles off. They're fucking cold."

The gamers hands weren't pulling on his shirt anymore as one snaked around to slide the goggles up and off of his head, dropping them lazily on the floor at Mello's feet. The blonde rolled his eyes, stretching just far enough to grab the lever that was hidden between their seats. With one sound tug, he effectively reclined the two chairs. He felt Matt's mouth pop open against his collarbone in surprise at the sudden fall. The red head curled against him, his trembling finally ceasing as his cold fingers curled into Mello's shirtfront.

"I don't mind Matt, even though it's your fault you're tired now."

Matt exhaled, his breath ghosting over Mello's neck as he did so. Mello fought back a shiver before turning his head and tucking his face into Matt's soft hair. At least this would deter that horrid cougar from coming onto him. Maybe, with some luck, she'd think he was gay and out of her target zone.

"Mello, you're really warm."

He snorted, his mind getting fuzzy with sleep surprisingly quickly. His messy blonde hair had fallen across his face, although he didn't care since his face was buried in Matt's hair anyways. He thought about that for a second; Matt's hair smelled like mint and sandalwood. His train of thought was getting coagulated as he drifted closer and closer to the brink of sleep. Why did Matt falling asleep always make him sleepy too? What was up with that? He tried to think of a time that Matt fell asleep and he didn't. When was the last time he had stayed up past Matt? He gave up, his mind feeling numb and disconnected inside of his skull.

"Yeah, and you're an ice cube."

* * *

"Oh, what a nice and kind gentleman! You need to thank him Kasey. If he hadn't caught your bouncy ball, you wouldn't have gotten another one."

He smiled, waving his hands before him in a chiding manner.

"It's no problem, ma'am. Back home, my mama woulda whacked me upside my melon if I'da not helped the little guy."

He squatted down to get level height-wise with the little sandy-blonde-haired boy. His eyes were full of tears and his lower lip still jutted out a bit from his previous episode of fear at the concept of losing his toy in the masses of people that crowded the airport hallway. His pale little fingers on his pale little hand were fisted and rubbing at the corner to one of his eyes. They looked delicious.

"Juss hold onta it tighter, like yer holdin' the reigns to a pony, 'kay little mister?"

He reached one hand out to ruffle the little boy's hair before straightening up and addressing his mother again.

"Have a nice flight Ma'am."

With a tip of his hat, he turned on his heel and strolled towards the gate he needed to be in with a lazy gait. He couldn't contain his tongue before it swept across his lips ruefully. He couldn't taste anything yet; he had to wait until he was in London first. That was, after all, the first place his little songbird would have flown; back to the starting nest.

Her cage was empty and he was dying to hear one of her lovely little songs.

* * *

Please, anyone who is reading this story, just drop me a little note in the review section telling me whether or not you liked it. Just a short one at least, even though critiques are much more highly coveted. Please?

Firstly, I must apologize in advance for how uncharacteristic Mello and Matt may have seemed. As I mentioned before; I don't plan on making them a romantic couple. They're just really close friends, even though they have proven to have some homosexual tendencies thus far.

Secondly, I must translate the chapter title for you:

(Cyrillic Russian) Вверх в облака. : (Romanized Russian) Vverh v oblaka : (English) Up into the clouds


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